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thelightsandtheroses · 5 months

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when the rain washes you clean, you'll know

Javier Peña x female reader

Summary: Secrets can’t stay hidden forever, not with these rainy days anyway … Warnings: 18+ blog, MDNI, secret relationship vibes, sexual tension, passing mentions of sexism and work, flangst (is it a lolabee fic without this?), copious references to rainy seasons and rain, poor communication, elements of rivalry if you squint maybe? Notes: This is my entry for the very lovely @undercoverpena’s April Showers challenge and I would like to thank this event for giving me some Javi P inspo. The fic title is from the brilliant Fleetwood Mac Dreams. Word Count: 2.7k

April brings the rain in Bogotá. You hear that in Cartagena, they get an extra month of dryness, but you’ve never minded water. You’re used to it.

If you were at your apartment now; with rain pitter pattering against glass windows, steaming coffee in your cup and a whole evening away from the office ahead of you, it would be better, you’d enjoy this moment. Instead, you’re desperately searching your handbag in the vain hope that this time around you will find an umbrella.

The embassy has a few umbrellas near the entrances and exits, but these have already been purloined by people leaving work before you. That will teach you to work late, to try and impress Messina again in vain.

This job isn’t what you expected. You wanted to expand your horizons, to do something wild and reckless with your life while you could. It seemed sensible to do this now, before mortgages and future commitments and expectations made it too difficult to be spontaneous.

The post in Colombia, working for Claudia Messina, seemed like a perfect opportunity. When you were told about it, all you could think was how it would certainly be a change from your small-town world and to learn from a woman rising in a male-dominated field was a dream, as well as a chance to stop the bad guys? You said yes almost automatically.

The reality is different to the images you’d let run wild in your mind. You’re not an active agent, you’re mostly doing translations, paperwork and shadowing Messina. The DEA’s office is dark and dank, illuminated by artificial bulbs and full of cigarette smoke. Your apartment is small and loud. Work takes so much of your time that you feel like you never explore this beautiful country or city and now it’s the wet season.

You feel like your adventure hasn’t yet started. It’s been weeks since you moved here and despite your best intentions, this isn’t what you had hoped for.

“Where are you parked?” a voice asks softly behind you. You turn around and see Agent Javier Peña - the source of most of your late nights of work as you try and untangle his messes or work on a better case for Messina to present.

When you had first joined the DEA office, one of the women in the office had taken you under her wing and shared the gossip and news about all of your new colleagues. She told you that Agent Peña has been in Colombia for years though, longer than most of the other active DEA agents.

He has a reputation. It’s all she’s needed to say to you about him.

Your few conversations with Javier have been professional, concise and fine. You’ve tried to notice his smile, the way he slightly changes his voice when he speaks to you, or any women. You refuse to be a notch in an already impressive bedpost, or to be the woman people talk about.

He might have a reputation, but from what you’ve heard, he’s one of the ‘good guys’. It lowers your guard; lets you point vaguely in the direction of your car. Javier smiles.

It’s a good smile. You can understand the rumours with a smile like that.

“We haven’t met, have we? I’m Javi” Five words. It takes only five words for Javier Peña to ruin everything. “I’d definitely remember seeing someone like you. Which uh, office are you in?”

You stand stonily silent, listening to the water running off the umbrella. Javier looks at you, brow furrowed as you extend the silence.

The rain does sound beautiful.

You open your car door and get in. Part of you wants to leave Javier right there, standing dumbfounded in the rain, his clothes getting damper by the second, the rain pouring over his stupid umbrella.

“I work for Messina, Peña, in the same damn office,” you say finally before slamming the door shut and starting your car engine.

“You changed your hair,” he says, hands on his hips defensively as he stands over your desk. “What’s your problem, Agent Peña?” “You changed your hair, that’s why I didn’t recognise you.” “Right.” You’re proud you manage to avoid physically rolling your eyes at his excuses. “It’s true,” he argues, shifting his position slightly. “Uh huh.” You remember that Colleen has boasted about him noticing her damn nail varnish so this feels weak at best so this hardly feels plausible, but as you look up you notice that Javi appears genuinely disturbed at your reaction. You take in his appearance further, now he’s not at the end of another busy day, isn’t fighting away rain in a damp suit and shirt, with curls peeking through his hair. Today he’s wearing a white shirt with a black pattern on it, his hair slightly scruffy, but moustache carefully sculpted. He smells like cologne and cigarettes. Sweet, woody notes trying to mask smoke and drawing you in like a siren’s song. “Look, this has been … delightful, but do excuse me, Agent Peña,” you say coolly, focusing on each syllable of his surname because you at least remember his name, at least you remember meeting him before yesterday. “I need to get back to work.” “Oh, well, please don’t let me keep you,” Javi replies with a sardonic tone, one eyebrow raised and his arms folded. “I shan’t.” You don’t move. “Must be very important work,” he says pleasantly, a slight smirk at your lack of movement. “Well, someone has to actually work around here,” you reply sweetly.

You don’t need to be a special agent to know that everybody has secrets. It’s a fact of life. There will always be things we keep from others, especially at work. Most of them will be mild and harmless, but some of them won’t be. It’s a constant.

There’s a reliability to this idea that perhaps you’re never getting the true person in front of you; just the shiny version that they want to project, the one that masks all the little secrets like they can’t quit smoking, or they drink milk straight from the carton.

It’s you too. You have a secret.

Your secret is wearing a light blue shirt today. Your secret is walking down the hallway arguing with his colleague. Your secret is the smell of cigarette smoke, whispered words and so much heat.

Your secret now is Agent Javier Peña.

He’s been your secret for weeks; weeks since the teasing banter developed into something else, to lingering touches, to kisses that you need like breathing and hands that map your body in a way you can hardly describe. You spent the month break from rainstorms in between yours and Javi’s apartments under the cover of night and cloud. Now it’s raining again, the wet season truly living up to its name.

Down in the DEA office, you can’t hear or see the rain outside. The windowless, dimly lit basement is a world away from the bustle of Bogota’s streets, yet somehow still is damp. Colombia’s wetness permeates through poorly maintained vents, through wet umbrellas in the bucket by the office door that hint at a world outside.

Steve and Javier are arguing. It’s not subtle, not a quiet disagreement between colleagues. It’s hands on hips, hands in the air, shaking heads and barely concealed curse words.

Maybe you should say something.

Or maybe not.

You try and return to your paperwork and the steaming mug of coffee you’ve been anticipating ever since your morning cup. There’s a coffee shop a few steps from your apartment building and you’ve finally convinced them to sell you some of their coffee blend. It’s not quite the same, but it’s close.

You think of breakfast this morning. The ghost of Javi’s lips on yours.

There’s a noise, a clearing of a throat and you look up to see Steve and Javi standing in front of your desk.

“Messina’s in meetings until five.”

“I know,” Javi says.

“It’s you, we want to speak to.”

You raise an eyebrow. Whatever this is between you and Javi relies on the two of you barely acknowledging one another in the office.

“You’re fluent in Spanish, right?” Steve asks directly.

You nod, still perplexed at how Steve’s Spanish is . “Why?”

“Firearm trained? You’re not just a desk jockey, right? You’re qualified?”

“Came third in my class.” You may have been a little higher if not for a terrible argument with your parents two days before your final exam. It hadn’t been your finest hour. You still carry it with you in every awkward phone call, every stilted letter home.

“Okay. That’s good. So, I don’t see the problem, Javi.”

“She came third. Who came first?’

“Really?” you ask incredulously, hurt and anger raging. How fucking dare he? You’ve told him about how hard it is to be taken seriously in the department, how the sexist roots prevail even with Messina in charge. Institutions can’t change overnight - they need people like you to fight them. Javi had emphasised, talked about his own barriers, the presumptions people had from his surname, his heritage.

He has the decency to look away, eyes abashed and fixated on the floor. Good, you think, that’s the very least he could do.

“I can get one of my informants -” No, you think, no, not one of Javi’s informants. You’ll do it, whatever Steve needs, surely you can do it instead?

“What do you need, Steve?”

This morning feels a world away now, but you let the memory take you away from this moment, from Javi’s inscrutable look when you said yes to Steve, from the fact you’re doing something this brave, this dangerous. You remember the coffee on the stove, its rich aroma seeping through the room as you wander out of Javi’s bedroom. Hands behind, wrapping around your wait and turning you around to meet his kiss. His hands move down your nightdress, teasing at the lacy hem as he moves them underneath. Laughing between kisses. “It’s raining,” you say. “I noticed,” he teases, tracing kisses down to your neck and then back up your jaw. “I think of you when it rains.” “Oh, yeah?” Javi stops for a second and looks at you quizzically. “Of how we got talking, of how we got from there, in that moment to here.” “Well ,I’ve never been more grateful to be caught in the rain.”

You’re starting to wonder if there was ever a time in Colombia that it wasn’t raining. The stormy clouds add to the greyness and foreboding of the street you’re currently parked in.

“Don’t,” Javi says quietly, the rain hitting the car windows and roof, echoing loudly around you. “Please don’t do this.”

You chance a look at him. “Do you not believe I can do this?” you ask, the concealed firearm heavy on your side, the wire Javi had put on feeling all to visible to you. He’d swallowed as he did it, featherlight fingers trying not to linger, you wondered if he was also trying not to default to the usual way he’d touch you.

“Oh, baby, I know you can.” Javi swallows. “But I want to be selfish and tell you not to do this. This isn’t a game, it’s not a drill -”

“I know that. I’ve been through the same training -”

“It’s different. You’ve not seen what I’ve seen.”

“I can handle it,” you reply simply.

“I don’t want you to.”

“Don’t be a sexist.”

“Don’t be so naive then, goddammit!”

“I’ve read the reports, studied the intel. I am not some naive ingenue here, Javi, fuck you for saying that. You made out I was stupid earlier, like I was some -”

“I’m sorry.” You can hear the apology is genuine.

You don’t reply, letting the rain speak for you instead. If you’re honest, you are nervous. This is your first undercover assignment and is so beyond the comfort and safety provided by your windowless desk.

It’s the job though, it’s what is needed.

“I’ve got this, Javi, whether or not you believe in me,”

“I do believe in you. I am sorry. I just - I don’t like it out here. I don’t like me out here, I don’t like who I am or who I become and I don’t - you’re still you. That’s part of what I love about you.”

You raise an eyebrow, meet Javi’s gaze. “Love, huh?”

You expect him to walk his words back, to huff or not say a word. He just shrugs.

“You ready?” Steve asks through the walkie talkie.

You nod before catching yourself, pressing the button and saying, “Yes, yeah, I’m ready and in position.”

“Okay, keep it to what we agreed, nothing else and keep it quick.”

Next to you, Javi looks at you pointedly, reinforcing Steve’s words.

“Understood,” you say and you can’t help but chance a smile at Javi as you unbuckle your seatbelt and get out of the car.

Rain hitting your skin.

Your heart’s racing, it’s so loud you can feel it in your ears. The incessant beating and drumming of adrenaline coursing through your body.

You should be cold, but you’re not. Not as they load them into the van, as Steve pats you on the back to congratulate you on a job well done.

You wish your undercover persona was the type of woman who wore a coat on a rainy night. You wrap your arms around yourself.

You can still hear the gunshot. The shouts.

There’s a weight on your shoulder, the scent of cologne, cigarettes … Javi permeating through your haze.

He stands next to you, leaning against the wall, a lit cigarette between his fingers.

“I’m fine,” you say urgently.

“I know.”

“It’s just … a lot.”

“Yeah.”

“I thought they had made me towards the end.”

Javi pauses, taking a long drag of his cigarette before offering you it. You accept it with surprisingly shaky hands.

“I did too,” he admits in a low voice.

“But they didn’t.”

“They didn’t.” Javi pauses. “You did great.”

“You haven’t.”

“I haven’t, what?” he asks playfully, turning to face you. In the dim streetlight, you notice each feature of his face, how it’s illuminated in yellow light and how deep brown his eyes really are. His brow is furrowed, hair slightly dishevelled in the way you normally associate with a good night, but you know from his bad days in the office is from running his hand through his hair too many times.

“Changed,” you say. “You said you don’t like who you become, but you’re you, Javi. I like you. All of you.”

“You say shit like that, I’m going to end up kissing you right here.”

“Dare you,” you tease.

He smirks. “I would,” he replies in a low voice.

“It’d be romantic, with the rain and all. Maybe less so with our colleagues around though. ”

“Is that what you want?”

“Do you?” It’s the first time the two of you have broached this subject. For months, you’ve existed in peace with the parts of Javi he can give you out of an assumption that was all that he could offer. Today seems to have changed things though.

Javi swallows.

“Take away the job, or who you’re hunting, take it all away for a moment. Would you want - would you want to be with me like that?”

“If we were in Texas, if none of this was going on, then nothing would stop me.”

“I’ve never been to Texas,” you muse.

“When this is over, we can go,” Javi says and the vulnerability in his eyes is so alien.

“I’ll hold you to that.”

“Looks like it’s still raining,” Javi says, noticing your attention at the view outside.

“Yep,” you say, “I suppose we should head back to everyone else, right? Finish the paperwork?”

“I didn’t say it this morning, but I think of you too. When it rains, I always think of you.”

Tag List

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#javier peña x female reader #javier peña x reader #javier peña #javier peña x you #UndercoverAprilShowersChallenge #javi pena x you #javier pena fanfiction #javier pena x female reader #javier pena x reader

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calabria-mediterranea · 6 months

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Reggio Calabria, Calabria, Italy

In their haste to reach Calabria’s beaches, many travelers mistakenly overlook the region’s largest city, Reggio. This handsome and little-touristed place of around 200,000 inhabitants is built on slopes overlooking the Strait of Messina (the strait between Calabria and Sicily).

The city was founded by the Greeks around 730 B.C., who settled this strategic location at the exact center of the Mediterranean in the 8th century BC. They called their colony Rhegion, which was subsequently Latinized by the Romans and transformed through the ages under the area’s various rulers.

Later, Reggio became an important center of Byzantine culture until being occupied by the Arabs in the 10th century. Spanish rule ended with Napoleon’s invasion in 1806.

The city thrived during the late 18th century, when the Lungomare Falcomatà, “the most beautiful kilometer of Italy,” a long seaside promenade, was constructed.

On a visit in 1847, the English artist and writer Edward Lear wrote: “Reggio is indeed one vast garden, and doubtless one of the loveliest spots to be seen on earth. A half-ruined castle, beautiful in colour and picturesque in form, overlooks all the long city, the wide straits and snow-topped Etna volcano on the island of Sicily beyond.”

An earthquake destroyed large areas of Reggio in 1908, and much of it was rebuilt in the art nouveau style. Lining the Corso Garibaldi, the principal thoroughfare, these elegant buildings give the city its singular charm.

Reggio is home to one of the most important archaeological museums, the prestigious National Archaeological Museum of Magna Græcia, dedicated to Greater Greece (the name given by the Romans to the Greek-speaking coastal areas of Southern Italy).

The Museum houses the Bronzes of Riace, rare examples of Greek bronze sculptures which became one of the symbols of the city.

These statues spent more than 2,000 years submerged under the waves of the Ionian Sea. A diver discovered the pair in 1972 and within a week the bronzes were recovered by an elated Italian government. How often do you get a chance to see two 2,500 year-old bronze warriors from classical Greece?

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thetriumphantpanda · 1 year

Note

CHARLIE you talented writer YOU!! If I could give you the world I would. I’ve been enjoying reading all these prompts turned into fics! Beautifully and nastily written 🤭

I would like to request ‘i want to see you’ fwb with Javier Peña. If you could make it angsty, dirty and fluffy in the end, I’d gladly kiss the ground you walk on. Luv ya! 😘

Oh my god Anon, you have no idea how much this message means to me ❤️ I'm so glad you're enjoying my writing - it makes me the happiest gal alive when people take time out of their day to tell me they like what I'm producing, so thank you 🫶🏼

This prompt flew out of my fingers at lightening speed - thank you! I hope you enjoy it!

Pairing | Javier Peña x Female Reader

Word Count | 1.9K (I'm getting carried away with these now!)

Fluff, angst and of course, smut below the cut! Still open for prompts - check here and pop into my ask if there's anything you want to see! Writing for Javi P, Javi G, Joel Miller, Frankie Morales and Dieter Bravo!

Javier slammed the phone down onto his desk for the third time in thirty minutes, putting a cigarette between his lips to light it, feeling the slight relief of the nicotine in his system almost immediately.

“You know, if you slam that any harder you might actually finally break it.” Steve mused from his place opposite him.

Javier glared at him, using his free hand to massage his temple. It had been a rough day. A failed attempt to capture one of Escobar’s right-hand men and a dressing down from Messina about ‘wasting resources’ had him furious and in these times, it was always you that he’d turn to for relief. He’d pick up the desk phone, only ever after midnight, mumble down the phone that he was coming over and hang up. He’d spend as long as he could buried inside of you, seeking the comfort and release he needed before he’d get up, dress himself and leave.

At the beginning it suited you. Relatively new to Colombia and the administration you’d found it thrilling that the famous Javier Peña had taken to calling you instead of turning to the company he’d always had at the city’s brothels. But then it had started taking it’s toll. He’d call in the early hours of the morning, begging to see you and you’d always let him come but then he’d come to expect that he could waltz in and take exactly what he wanted and leave without an explanation, and it was beginning to make you feel like nothing more than a whore yourself.

Two weeks ago, when he’d called and told you he was coming over you’d refused. You’d complained you were tired and needed an early start, to which he’d pointed out that it had never mattered before. You’d lost your temper, shouting down the phone about it always having to be on his terms, in the dead of night, with no-one else being able to know what the two of you were doing. You’d slammed the phone down on him and done everything possible to avoid him since.

“I don’t even know what I’ve done.” Javier spoke to Steve, continuing to massage his temples.

“I didn’t think you were actually this dense.” Was Steve’s blunt reply.

“What the fucking hell is that supposed to mean?” Javier spoke with a harsh tone.

“Dude, you’ve been fucking her for months now, you do exactly this, phone her when you’ve had a bad day, turn up, get your fill and leave,” He had waved his hands whilst trying to explain, “You treat her no differently to any of the girls you saw before apart from this time she doesn’t charge you for the honor.”

“She knew what she was getting into.” Was what Javier replied with.

“That don’t make it right, man,” Steve tried to reason, “If you’re going to be friends with benefits, you’ve got to be her friend.”

Javier growled, stubbing out his cigarette before rubbing his face with his hands, “You know, sorry would probably go a long way,” Steve said before standing up, “I’ll see you tomorrow man.”

Javier picked up the phone once more, stopping to decide if this was really the right thing to do before dialing your number for the fourth time. He was convinced it was going to ring out again, but the ringing stopped, and he could hear a distant shuffling on the other end of the phone.

“Hello?” Your voice drifted through the receiver, immediately dissipating some of the tension in his shoulders.

“Hermosa?”

“What do you want Javier?” There was an ice to your voice that he wasn’t used to, even when he spoke to you last time the tone had been more one of disappointment than anything else.

“I just wanted to hear your voice.”

He could hear you take a deep sigh on the other end of the phone, “Well, you’ve heard it now, can I go back to bed?” He could already tell you were moving to hang up the phone.

“Hermosa, wait, please.”

On the other side of the phone, you were stood in the entryway of your apartment where the phone lived, fighting with your brain telling you to hang up and your heart telling you that you couldn’t spend another day without him.

“I’m still here.” You whispered softly.

“I want to see you.”

You closed your eyes and tipped your head back, silently wishing that this was easier. You cared about him, cared about making him feel good in the dark hours when no-one else could, but you also cared about the fact that he really did make you feel like shit when he got up and dressed himself and left without a word.

“I’m going to bed in 30 minutes, so hurry.”

***

You weren’t quite sure how he’d managed it but in just under 20 minutes he was knocking on your door. You tried not to think about the speed limits he’d broken to get here in the time he had.

You opened the door for him, expecting what always happened, for his lips to be on yours in seconds, back pressed up against the wall as his hands roamed underneath the loose-fitting top you were wearing. Instead, he walked in and straight past you. That was new.

“You want a drink?” You asked, pointing to the bottle of whiskey and the glass that you usually always set out for him.

“No, I’m okay thank you.” That was also new.

He stood awkwardly in your space. He really only ever spent time in your bedroom and something about him stood in the living area seemed wrong. You walked up behind him and placed a hand on his shoulder.

“Bad day?” You asked.

“The worst,” Was his reply, “It’s all bullshit, hermosa, I can’t do right for doing wrong, they’re always one step ahead of us.”

You squeezed his shoulder in understanding, “What do you need?”

He turned to look at you, the darkness usually present in his eyes was replaced by a soft wanting stare towards you, “I just want you, it’s all I ever want.”

You took hold of his hand and led him towards your bedroom. You used soft hands to push his shoulders, sitting him down on the edge of the bed as you sank to your knees in front of him, his eyes never leaving you as you did.

“Take off your shirt.” You commanded softly, watching as he dragged it up and over his head and discarded it to the floor before leaning back on his hands.

He watched intently as you made light work of undoing his belt, dragging it through the belt loops to discard next to his shirt on the floor.

“Lift your hips up.” You instructed once the button of his jeans had been dealt with.

You dragged his jeans down his legs, fighting to get them off his feet, your eyes focusing on his semi-hard cock sitting right in your eyeline.

“You need me to help you relax?” You asked, looking up at him through your eyelashes.

“Please, querida.” He begged.

You gently took his cock in your hand, using it to pump him to his full glory before dipping your head to him. You gently licked your tongue over the head, reveling in the sounds that fell from his mouth. Spurred on by his excitement, you took him fully into your mouth, letting him hit the back of your throat before pulling back short of choking on him to shower attention back to the weeping head of his cock.

You continued like this for a moment, taking him as far into your mouth as you could, using your hand to pump the rest of his length and then using your tongue to taste the salty drops of precum at his head.

“Hermosa,” He choked out, “Please, I need to be inside you.”

You pulled your face back but kept your hand running slow movements up and down his cock, “Get on the bed and lie back.” You demanded, standing and shedding your clothes as he did as you asked.

Once you were naked you crawled onto the bed, settling yourself above him as a grin formed on his face. He loved watching you ride him and you knew it. He watched with dark eyes as you reached a hand down between your legs, gathering the wetness weeping from your pussy, using your wet fingers to circle your clit. You dragged your fingers back down and inside of you, pumping two fingers into yourself, keeping your eyes on Javier’s before pulling them out and bringing them to his mouth.

“Go on,” You urged, “I know you like to taste me.”

As he sucked your fingers into his mouth and ran his tongue all over them to clean your slick off them, you shifted your hips above him and slowly sank down onto his cock, watching his face twist with the pleasure on your tight heat enveloping him.

“Jesus Christ, querida, you feel incredible.”

You smirked down at him, slowly lifting your hips a way off him before sinking back down, placing your hands on the headboard for leverage as you began fucking yourself on his cock. Javi’s hands flew to your hips, guiding you to move in exactly the way he liked, grinding into him as you sank back down onto him every time. You stayed like this for some time before Javi used his hands to still your hips.

You grinned, knowing exactly what was coming. He was taking control. Keeping you above him, he brought his knees up, resting them against your backside to give him purchase before he started fucking himself up into you. The friction of his thrusts was incredible, the feeling of fullness was something you’d undeniably missed.

“Oh my god, Javi.” You moaned, hands flying to your tits to grab and palm them, using your fingers to give attention to your nipples.

“I’m not going to last much longer, hermosa, not when you put on a show like this.”

“I want you to fill me up, Javi,” You moaned as he squeezed his fingers into your hips, not letting up on his pace, “Cum inside me please.”

It was moments later that a string of expletives fell from his mouth as he did exactly as you’d asked, pumping his cum inside your pussy whilst his fingers left bruises on your hips. You slowly lifted your hips off him, looking down as his cum dripped from you before collapsing on the bed next to him.

Once he’d caught his breath, he slowly stood from the bed and walked to the small bathroom at the end of your room. You could hear the tap running and then he was back with your warm washcloth, delicately cleaning you up before fishing his cigarettes from his jeans.

This was usually the moment he’d throw his clothes back on and leave wordlessly, but he settled himself on the bed, lighting the cigarette between his lips.

“Can I stay tonight?” He asked quietly.

“You want to stay?” You replied, a tone of surprise in your voice, “Who are you and what have you done with the real Javier Peña?” He let out a soft chuckle, “Hermosa, I’m sorry.” He placed a warm hand on your thigh for comfort, “I’m not good at this, I’ve never been good at this, and I’m sorry for how I treated you,” He sighed, taking a drag of his smoke, “I want to do right by you, I care about you, but I’m not quite sure how to do it.”

You placed one of your hands on top of his and squeezed, “It’s okay, I’m not very good at this either,” You reassured, “But maybe we can figure it out together?”

He turned and smiled at you, “I’d like that.”

#panda writes prompts #javier pena #narcos #Pedro pascal #javier pena fic #javier pena fan fic #javier pena fanfiction #javier pena x you #javier pena x reader #javier pena x female reader #javier pena x f!reader #javier pena smut #javier pena Pedro pascal #JP drabbles

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satlun · 3 months

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Unspoken Truth: Don John x fem!reader

Genre: angst Trigger Warnings: insult

The truth that will never be spoken

Author's Note: THIS ONE IS REALLY GOOD TRUST ME. So, in this writing I included Shakespeare dialogue style in it but if some of you want to read it more smoothly you can focus on the bold text, their meaning. At first, I want to add Shakespeare writing style for every dialogue but I think it's gonna be too long and maybe useless?? So I tried to change the language to be more beautiful instead; more formal?? So enjoy guys, I really love this one.

Credits: -

The place where it is located on the hills in Messina, a port city on the island of Sicily. The big house which is full of vineyards and gardens is owned by Don John's father. He's a rich nobleman who is one of the most richest man in Sicily. A man name Don Predo is the next descendant and Don John is his half- younger brother.

You're one of the servants that his father fostered from an orphanage. He gave his servants chances to not end up or stuck their life in the cage of the orphanage, to have better life or at least have money for their own. You always appreciate his grace for adopting you. You wouldn't have such a better life if he wasn't gave you a chance. At least you don't have to stuck there forever, here you have good friends, food and a nice place to sleep every night. That's enough, you don't need much. Greediness isn't in your blood.

Everything sounds perfect except the fact that his son name Don John, who is arrogant and selfish unlike his older brother. So, the relationship between you and him is not quite well. You are not get along with him since you were young, even he is around your age. He always treats you badly even he seems to treat you better when you both grow up. However, you can't do anything at all because he is also one of your masters and the grace that you have for his father is so strong. Moreover, you are the most beautiful servant in this house, everyone knows that. Some of his guests or his friends that come to his house always compliment you in the way you look or your manners;

“Fair maiden, thy beauty doth outshine the sun and mock the stars, a visage fit for royalty, not menial tasks!” - “Lady, your beauty shines from the sun and mocks the stars. A face fit for a royal family not a disrespectful job!”

“Nay, I curse not fate, nor fortune's cruel hand, but the very stars that cast thee in this lowly role! Thou wert born to grace a noble house, not serve within these walls...” - “No, I didn't curse fate or the cruel hands of fortune but it is the stars that cast you in this humble role! You were born to honor noble houses. Do not serve within these walls…”

“By heavens, mine eyes have never gazed upon such a vision! Beauty unparalleled, a sweetness that doth charm the very air, a presence that draws me like the moon upon the tide, and a heart, I do believe, as gentle as a summer's morn! Surely, fate itself did weave this tapestry, bringing us together on this blessed day. To meet thee, fairest lady, is an honor beyond compare.” - “By heaven, my eyes have never stared at such a vision! Unrivaled beauty The sweetness that attracts the air, a presence that draws me in like the moon at the tide, and my heart, I believe, is as gentle as a summer's morning! Of course fate itself has woven this tapestry. Bringing us together on this happy day, meeting you, lady. It is an honor that cannot be compared.”

“Fair lady, should my humble offer find no favor in thine eyes, then know this: my heart shall conquer any obstacle to claim thee as my wife.” - “Lady, if my humble offer finds no favor in your sight. Know this: my heart will overcome any obstacle to claim you as my wife.”

they all offer you to have a beautiful better life, to be their wife. However, you always end up rejecting them because you do love it here, this place is like your house now and the fact that you want to repay this kindness for his father until you die. You have an oath to yourself that you will not leave this house until his father tells you so or his father matches you with someone to marry to. He is like a real father for you meanwhile he also treats you like his real daughter.

The sound of the music playing in the background, under the sky with many stars. It's such a beautiful night. Tonight, there are many guests come from all directions around Italy to celebrate Don John's birthday. His father ordered his servants to prepare, decorate and cook for this masquerade party. You and your colleagues are done with the things his father desired. The masquerade came out good as you wish it was.

The sound of giggling and laughing behind the wall seems a little loud that his father could hear it. It's the sound of you and your friends giggling and laughing, looking at the party. Obviously, they all want to join even you. However, they are still servants, they know their place. They are not supposed to be there which is not their place. It would be like that if they live in other houses, not this house where Don John's father lives. “My people.” The similar sound comes from behind them. “Come. Come join the masquerade with me. You have this right to do and I will force you to if you still insist to stay here.” He said it as a joke. He won't actually force anybody to go if the person's will is to stay here. However, they all laugh and jump with happiness when he allows them to join. “Go get dress beautifully and have fun. Oh- there are many left masks on the table at the hallway. Grab them and join.” He smiled before leaving. The servants immediately run into the shower door and get ready to join the masquerade.

Soon, you're in your white dress, the dress that his father gave you in your previous birthday which he gave it to all of his servants when they turn twenty, he said 20th year is the year of change. You will have to overcome or face with many things in your life. So, wearing beautiful dress at least it will make you have confidence in your mind and that will makes you believe in yourself, to choose in a good and right decision no matter how many situations you will face. The dress is a plain white dress but the details and patterns that are delicate and elegant which make it look more beautiful. The moonlight seems brighter than usual. You look up to the sky under your mask, the mask that only covers your upper face and reveals your lower face.

You're a kind of person who is not good at socializing and unfortunately your friends seem to have their partner to dance. While you were walking in the masquerade party with nervous, someone's voice stopped you. “Lady” You follow the voice of the man. He's in his elegant white clothes with a mask that cover all of his face. “It would be a shame... if a beautiful woman like you don't have a partner to dance, so let it be my duty?” He offers you his hand. Your smile slowly forms on your face before you grab his hand. His hand is so soft as if he has never been to war or done any hard work unlike you. You feel a bit more nervous when you think about your rough skin. You just hope that he won't bring it up. “Where are you come from, lady? The North or the South? But I assume you are from the North.” He notices your reaction, tumultuous reactions. Maybe it's not appropriate to ask a woman like this for the first time he met. “Please ignore my inappropriate question.” You could feel a smile under his mask, he tries to make you comfortable as much as possible. You just have an idea that he would think you were one of the noblewomen who just comes here to join the masquerade, celebrate Don John's birthday. The man seems like a good person at the first meet but you can't deny that you still have the thought that he might have an idea to flirt with you like the rest of the men you met. They all wanted to marry you but still court with many different women in the same night. “No- I'm from... here.” The man raises his eyebrows under his mask while his feet still keep moving, dancing along with yours. Your hand is now place on his shoulder. “Here? I've never known that Don John has a sister.” His chuckle comes from his throat. Obviously, he doesn't believe it. “No. Sir. I'm just a servant here.” He let you turn your body under his arm before you both continue to dance and the conversation. “A servant?” He still can't believe that a beautiful woman like you with this good manners than the rest of the people is a servant. “Yes, sir.” He nods as understanding, he doesn't judge you by being a servant at all unlike the rest who would say; you're not supposed to be a servant because your beauty is beyond that or you should be my wife because being a servant is a disrespectful job and you don't deserve that. “Interesting.” That was all of his answer.

It is kind of make you disappointed before he continues the conversation. “My mother... was a servant. After I came back from a war with victory, I got the new rank from the king. I told her that please let go of this living and having a better life with me. However, she still insisted to stay the same, she said; it is my honor to live here, the man who allowed me to live in this place gave a better life than I had before I even have you and I will repay his kindness until I die. Yes, she died two months after the conversation. At the house. Under the man's arms.” He paused for a moment before continuing. “He loves her... but he just can't marry to my mother because she's just a servant in his parents' eyes so they don't allow him to marry her.” He looks into your eyes. “And you're the most woman I've ever seen but I will not ask you to marry me.” You are listening to him carefully, his voice shake a little bit but you could feel that he is trying to not make his voice sound more shaky. “Because I know that all the servants here were fostered. I understand the repayment you all want to give. Thus, it is more like my honor to have the dance with the woman I can't marry with.” That moment, all of your judgment that you had earlier is all gone. He is different from the others. You can feel his kindness through his voice and his story. He didn't force her mother to leave, he just lets her be whatever she wants to be. He truly understands the repayment that his mother wanted to give. “Thank you...” you said with a kind smile on your face. You're also speechless about the story, it's beautiful and melancholic. “Did she love him?” You asked. “Indeed.”

That was all he said before one of his friends interrupted you both. The friend whispers something to him. You don't hear that because of the music and the sound of people having fun. “Lady... I need to go. I am truly sorry for my friend for interrupting you.” You just nod and smile in understanding before he kisses your hand and leaves, he leaves without his name. Your eyes follow the man until you see him walking to Don John. That moment, you see Don John's gaze on you, the gaze which is intense and deep as if it is burning on your skin.

Hours later, you're sitting in the kitchen while washing dishes. The masquerade ended for an hour. All the servants are all in here cleaning up things. The works are almost done so you offer your colleagues that mostly are old to go to sleep first and you with young colleagues will do the rest. Soon, they are all gone and you are ready to go to bed after the works done. You're really tired from the party and the work, you need to take a rest after this long night.

“[y/n]!” Before you could leave the kitchen, one of your friends walks in and calls you. She seems hurried. “Yes?” You answered as she walked toward you quickly. “Sir Don John needs a bowl full of cool water and a cloth, he said it is hot tonight and he needs something to cool him up. Could you bring it to him? His father just called me and there's no one left here...” Your friend look around the kitchen because there's literally no one here so you accept the request. Honestly, if you weren't here, she would find someone else because she is so scared of him. Actually, Don John treats everyone badly. Here, you are known as the one who is scared of nothing. So, they all will ask you to do the thing if the order comes from the man name Don John.

You're walking down the corridor with the bowl full of cool water and the cloth in your hands. The corridor is almost dark except the candle that helps the way brightens. This house would be in silence without the sound of your footsteps.

Your presence stops in front of his bedroom door. You barely hear anything from his bedroom like usual, he would bring many different women from different parties to sleep with. You would hear the sound of moan in happiness through his door when you walk past to get to your room.

Before you can knock on the door, he says loudly through the door. “Come in!” He always win in wars so it doesn't surprise if he can hear someone by only footsteps. Your hand slowly spins the knot before walking in. He's already sitting on the bed without his shirt on, turning his back towards you. You slowly walk to the other side of the bed and place the bowl on the side table. Your feet walk towards the door and ready to leave. “Did I tell you to leave?” You're stunned by his words. “I'm sorry, sir.” That was all you said before turning around to look at him. Even, he is still turning his back towards you. He doesn't say anything further but that's the sign for you to do something, to cool him up by wiping his body with the cool water. So, you grab the bowl, the cloth and walk to him.

You place it down on the other side table. His gaze is on you now, lingering all over your face and your body. You hate this feeling, it is like your body is being burned by his eyes. One of your hand pick the cloth and put it into the bowl, anoint it with water. His eyes follow your hand. “Did you find pleasure in your discourse with Leonard?” He asked firmly as his eyes were still on you. “Leonard who, sir?” You asked him while your eyes are still on the cloth. “The man you danced with.” It makes you stop unintentionally. He looked at you for the whole time? “...indeed, sir. He is kind and gentle.” You could hear his chuckle from his throat but it's so light that you almost barely hear it.

Now, you fully face him. He is sitting in front of you while you gently wipe his body with the cloth. “Why didn't you accept to marry him?” You raise your eyebrows with his words. He would hear a lot that you always reject men's love. But at this moment, all you could think is that; what is he going to play with you this time? “He didn't ask me.” You answered. “Leonard... is a good gentleman, handsome, brilliant, and rich.” You can catch the sarcasm in the replies. “He can make you a noblewoman.” He added while the cloth was down on his abdomen. “That's not my desire, sir.” You answered immediately with the pride of your job. “Then what is your desire!?” He whispered sharply to you, grabbed you and you flinched. As if he wanted to shout but he didn't want to let anyone hear that. He continues, “Don't you want a status? Don't you want money? Don't you want a man!?” He raised his voice. He just insulted you. He thinks that a servant like you wants all of those things. You look at him at the eyes with madness in your heart. “What kind of woman do you think I am?” You talked back to your master. Well, it doesn't matter now if he is your master or not. Right now, he is just a man who insults you. You can't stand him. “I am not a woman who needs all of those precious things!” You raise your voice. Treating you badly is alright but insulting you is enough. You have your own pride and no one will judge that. “You insulted me.” Your voice is sharp and is almost like a whisper while all of your madness can be seen on your face obviously.

“Why do you wish to stay here so badly!? I don't understand! When many noblemen offer you to have a better life!?” He swept the cloth and stand up right in front of you. You stumble back and look into his eyes. He's not satisfied with your words much. “Because it is my will.” You just don't want to explain much since he's the kind of a person who doesn't care and doesn't understand you. “I don't want to see your face! I hate the way your hair looks! The way you walk the way you talk! It all annoys me! Why don't you just leave!?” He shouted at your face while his hand swept your hair and your cloth. His words cut right into your heart. Why? Just being yourself is already annoying to someone? “I insist to stay here until your father tells me to.” You say sharply to him. If he hates it, the will to stay here is stronger. You also have a weird thought comes into your mind that you will stay here, get on his nerves until death can take you both apart since he's the most unreasonable man you have ever met.

He knows that he can't do anything since it must come from his father's order to deport you from here which is impossible. His father is not an unreasonable person who will deport someone arbitrarily or without a strong reason enough. Your eyes are still on him watching him staring at you. You're not scared of him at all. He is just a bastard to you now. You had never thought about him in this way until today because it is too much for you. A nobleman who should know how to talk, when to speak or what shouldn't be spoken but this man knows nothing!

All he can do now is staring at you, having the thoughts that you will never know. All of his hatred has their own reasons. The fact that he doesn't want to see you walking around his house or around him because he can't stand himself that he can't marry you, his father doesn't allow him to. And that makes him mad. Yes, it is true that his father is a good man, always treats his servants like humans equally as him and his family, never look down on them. However, he can't deny that fame and family status are still important things to his father and for his own sons. No matter how much kindness his father gives to his servants, he still can't let him marry a servant like you. His father always find many beautiful noblewomen for him to marry since he is in the nice age to get married but he ends up rejecting all of them because he still can't love anyone except you. He really doesn't want to marry any other woman but you. That's why he wants you to leave so much because it will hurt him less if you are gone and married to someone out of his sight. It won't hurt him that much, that's what he thinks. The man that is standing right in front of you with eyes that are hard to read wants to marry you so badly but he just... can't. That makes him feel sick even more because he always hear that many noblemen ask you to marry and he is afraid that one day you may actually accept the offer. Just like today, he is so afraid that one of his closest friends will ask you to marry because if it's true, he will see you in the man's arms until death. Leonard is close to him and it could make him die if he has to see you with Leonard, his closest friend forever. And the fact that he has to bring many different women into his bedroom to pretend that they are you. He needs you so bad and he can do nothing about it. If he sleeps with you, it will become rumored and you are the only one who is going to be fucked up because his father loves him so much. So, he needs those beautiful women to fulfill the space that he still has left; you. He will find all the women who have the same eyes color, the same hair color or even the same height as you to sleep with. And all of these truth that you will never know, it won't be spoken by his mouth.

Since he keeps staring at you, you decide to leave. Why do you need to wait? Wait for him to insult you more? No. Those are enough. Don John is standing there like an idiot watching you leave with the unspoken truth from his mouth. All he can do is letting you go. He still wishes you would leave this house after he said all those things. Since he can't marry you, maybe it is better to not see you anymore. It could make him forget you better.

He can't marry you. He knows. He has prestige which he doesn't care except his father and if you were not a servant, everything would be easier. He would ask you to be his bride and love you until death takes you apart.

END

#keanu reeves #keanuverse #much ado about nothing #don john #don john x reader

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mercurygray · 4 months

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HBOWW2 Rewatch: June-August 1943

Since Week 2's episodes really only take us through 3 months of 1943 there's not a lot of big picture stuff to get caught up on.

But man, oh man, are there some big things happening elsewhere.

June: The Zoot Suit Riots take place in Los Angeles when a group of sailors on leave get into a fight with Mexican American youth near the waterfront, leading to retaliatory action from many more sailors and soldiers in the following days. The riots last ten days, and are only stopped when the Army and Navy declare L.A. off limits to military personnel. (This is not the only race-related act of violence this month, but it is certainly the most well known.)

Charles de Gaulle and Henri Giraud are named co-presidents of the French Committee of National Liberation. This institution would challenge the legitimacy of the Vichy government and provide a unifying force for French forces abroad and at home. It will also function as a provisional government in Algeria, which has recently been liberated during the North Africa campaign.

The Tuskegee Airmen have their first encounter with the Luftwaffe as six P-40 Warhawks are attacked over the island of Pantelleria by 12 German Focke-Wulf 190 fighters. Pantelleria has recently surrendered and will serve as a jumping off point for the invasion of Sicily, which begins in July. (Lieutenant General Carl Spaatz is currently serving as the head of Mediterranean Air Force Command.)

The invasion of Sicily starts on July 9th as a combined US, British and Canadian force lands at points around the island, starting a month-long race by General Patton's forces to move from Licata in the south to Messina in the north in an effort to catch the Germans before they can evacuate to the mainland. (Sadly, most of the Germans do make it off the island.) Both this campaign, and the North Africa campaign that preceded it, are launched to redirect resources away from the Eastern Front - a move that largely succeeds.

Speaking of the Eastern Front, the battle of Kursk begins on July 9. It is the single largest battle in the history of warfare, and is a turning point for the entire European war. The use of air support in what is largely a tank battle leads to one of the single costliest days of aerial combat.

On July 19, Allied Air Forces bomb Rome, which leads, in some large part, to the resignation of Mussolini as Prime Minister on July 25th, ending a 17 year dictatorship.

On July 27th and 28th, the RAF bomb Hamburg. High winds and drought conditions lead to the greatest single-day loss of life in wartime as more than 30,000 city residents burn to death after bombs set the entire town aflame.

Also in June, the new town of Oak Ridge, Tennesee, which will house workers for the Manhattan Project, officially receives its first residents, and "Comin' in on a Wing and a Prayer" by The Song Spinners tops the Billboard singles chart.

Heading into August, Operation Tidal Wave, the bombing of Ploesti, Romania, begins as 177 B-24 bombers attack the oil plant. This will be the first of many, many bombing runs on this target, which is a sigificant source of fuel for the Axis. (And you can't outrun Patton in Sicily or fight tank wars in Russia if you don't have fuel)

The United States Women's Air Service Pilots, or WASPS, is officially formed under the auspices of Jackie Cochran and Nancy Love. The program consolidates 2 previous groups in an attempt to leverage civilian pilots for ferrying duties.

So. It's August of 1943. The Allies are eyeing mainland Italy for their next assault. The Russians are slugging away in Kursk. The 8th Air Force has just gotten through the Regensberg- Schweinfurt raid. September will probably hold much of the same. Or ...will it?

#hboww2rewatch #long post #this is late! sorry

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katerinaaqu · 2 months

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Hi there! You seem to be an expert on Greek myths and Odysseus as a character so I was wondering…I hear stories about stuff pre-Iliad and during the war. Like Odysseus pretending to be mad or stabbing Diomedes. Where do I find these stories?

Also if you don’t mind me asking what’s your opinion on Odysseus’ character change in stories besides Homer’s? How do you handle it as a writer yourself when you portray Odysseus?

Hello!

My, oh, my! Calling me an "expert" is definitely a stretch! You are the most kind. It is true that I have a degree and a post-graduate degree in archeology but I have to admit that I have a lot of dusting off to do in my knowledge in regards to many different sources and asks like yours allow me all the more to research and better myself! So thank you both for the compliment and the opportunity to answer this question!

[Warning for a long text. Please bear with me! ^_^]

It is true that stories of pre-Iliad are rescued more from post-homeric sources (which makes sense given that many researchers actually point at Homer as the oldest known source for epics even than Hesiod, although th discussion is still going on). The only pre-Iliad events we actually know in regards to Odysseus from Homer is his naming from his father Autolycus in Rhapsody/Book 19, his scar from the boar and his trip to Messina in which he receives his infamous bow as a gift.

A large number of works in regards to Odysseus come from sources such as the Epic Cycle, which is the closest we have to the epic tradition however there is a large number of sources coming from Romans such as Pausanias (who mentions how Odysseus takes Penelope as a wife) but most of all Higenius and Pseudo-Appolodorus. There are others sources as well but mostly come from entertainment department such as the theatrical writers of 5th century BC such as Eurypedes who use the events of the myths to create their dramas. By n large I tend to separate those because they are just for entertainment reasons (pretty much like the...adaptations from nowadays! Hahaha although those are valid interpretations as well)

A large number of stories that show Odysseus as the most devious and scheming fellow come from roman sources. No surprise there that his fake madness story comes mainly from Higenius, Fabulae (which is also the writer who mentions the story of how Odysseus frames Palamedes for treason to get back at him for unmasking his scheme). The story of him trying to stab Diomedes at the back seems to be mostly apparent in later roman times historians and researchers. More specific I find more reference for the augustian times writer Conon, who claims that Odysseus tried to stab Diomedes in the back in order to take the full credit for the stealing of the Paladium of Athena. Diomedes sees the shadow of his sword reflected by the moonlight and repels Odysseus. This event apparently seems to be giving the name to a proverb that we call "Diomedes's necessity" (διομήδεια ανάγκη) which basically means that you do something unpleasant because you have no choice (given that Diomedes knew that Odysseus was essential for the taking of Troy he didn't try to injure him back even if Odysseus backstabbed him)

By n large the wave of anti-Odysseus narrative did start by many of the classical greek plays because they wanted to create propaganda for the straightforward battle, something that Odysseus didn't always stand for but it definitely skyrocketed with Virgil's Aenead, in which Odysseus is more often whatnot referred to as "cruel" or "deceitful" and he is depicted more or less as a villain. And as we see from sources like Higenius, Odysseus keeps being pretty much a shady till villanious figure in many roman texts mainly because of his connection to Troy since he took Troy with trickery and from Troy escaped Aeneas, the mythological progenitor of Rome (aka Odysseus is a villain for roman literature because he took their origin city from them)

Well I believe you can read and study these stories to your local libraries but if you do not have much time I would suggest you the site that I often use to see the original texts called perseus.tufts . It is a very useful site that has most of classics even in the native tongue and you can also research names and terms and find them faster through the site. It often has some useful commentary as well.

***

If I mind?! I am honored when people ask my inspiration! ^_^

Well in my humble opinion I think Homer's Odysseus is the most solid Odysseus. I do see both his good and his bad side and we can see that despite the fact he is undoubtedly the hero, he is also deeply flawed and one can both relate to him but also critisize him for what he does. Now for the rest of the stories I believe we must take some of them with a grain of salt depending on what the poem or work was about. For example using Eurypedes's plays to make an assumption about Odysseus's saga seems to me equivalent on using Shakespere to learn about King Richard or James Cameron to learn about American history. One can recognize the creators' research but in the end of the day dramas are plays that are supposed to cause emotions to the audience for their pleasure (which ironically was also what the homeric poems originally were) so certain details on characters' personalties might have been over-sensationalized for the sakes of dramatics or pass the messages they wanted to pass.

Given that in antiquity greeks used Homer almost like a sole reference for these characters means that they might as well used the homeric poems as their initial stop and enriched it with local traditions in regards to the characters as well as their personal tastes. This can be apparent for example in differences such as that Homer initially wrote that Calypso was forcing herself on Odysseus and yet Hesiod says "they made sweet love", possibly taking over from one or two lines from Homer's work (I had made a small analysis on those in the past). There are also other epics such as Telegony that straight out contradict major points of the Odyssey making many people even here saying that "telegony is not canon" and I agree on the take that yes is a completely different story than the line Homer created, even if it does seem taking the story from where Homer left it.

It is hard to pintpoint how much Homer changed to make his Odysseus and how much of his poems are his invention and how much was the oral traditions he undoubtedly gathered to create his poems so it is hard to tell which accounts of Odysseus were accurate to depict him as cruel and which were not. But I tend to side with Homer's writing given that Homer didn't spare his audience from Odysseus's tendency to cruelty or violence, starting from the beating of Thersytes in Iliad till the murder of the suitors and his preparation for a war with the nobles of the Cephallinians in the Odyssey. It is this lack of overexaggeration on Homer's part which still doesn't sugar-cot his hero's flaws that make me side with his interpretation.

Now as you might have noticed from my own stories (which you can find to my pinned post here if you ever were to honor me with your insight on them!) I mostly use Homer as my source but I do like to selectively read some of the post-homeric sources and pick those that fit the most with the narrative I assume aligns more with Homer. For example in both my story "Guilt" as well in my one-shot "Screams and Shadows in the Night", I use Pausanias as a source for Palamedes's death with the fishing expedition assuming that Odysseus wouldn't risk his own skin to get caught just to frame someone else 10 whole years after Palamedes revealed him as sane. I would imagine more that Odysseus on impulse would push Palamedes in the water and then just let him drown so that he wouldn't get caught along with the personal grudge against him rather than him building an elaborate scheme for him like that. That is because I saw in the Odyssey a guy that seems to be pretty straightforward when it comes to his vengeance (see the suitors) to which he took his time trying to be as just as possible giving the chance on some people to repent on their sins and save their lives.

Maybe I am way too...prejudiced with Odyssey and Iliad but as a general rule I try to read the post-homeric sources and try to analyze which of the actions ellegedly portrayed by Odysseus would have aligned with the spirit of Homer so I try to pick some of those that suit that same line. I hope that makes sense!

Forgive me for the extra long reply and thank you so much for the amazing question! I will have to research some more on that department! I hope in the future to be able to become more specific! Thank you again!

#katerinaaqu answers #tagamemnon #odysseus

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notebook91286 · 1 year

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117/365

#pic of the day #strait of messina #Sea #messina city #april #sicily #Italy #foto del giorno #stretto di messina #Mare #città di messina #messina #reggio calabria #Aprile #sicilia #Italia

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sciatu · 1 month

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LA VARA DI MESSINA - PRIMA PARTE: LA DANZA DELLE VARETTE - Pitrè, l’etnologo che studiò la cultura siciliana nei suoi vari aspetti, fu uno dei primi ad identificare le Feste Religiose come uno degli elementi più importanti dell’identità culturale siciliana. Nel suo libro “Feste Religiose in Sicilia”, Pitrè racconta in dettaglio la storia e i particolari della Vara di Messina ma, da quando il libro usci ad oggi, molte cose nelle tante feste siciliane sono cambiate. La Vara è una parola siciliana che letteralmente vuol dire “bara” in quanto molte delle feste religiose nascevano ai tempi degli spagnoli per celebrare il Cristo morto chiuso in una bara di vetro. Vi sono infatti molte similitudini tra alcune feste siciliane e le processioni di Valenza, Malaga, Siviglia ed altre città della Spagna dove si ricordano il Cristo morto e la sua Passione. La parola Vara, divenne presto il sinonimo di tutti quelle strutture utilizzate nelle processioni religiose per portare reliquie, oggetti sacri o su cui effettuare rappresentazioni sacre. La Vara di Messina è una struttura piramidale che descrive l’assunzione al cielo di Maria la cui statua è posta nel punto più alto della struttura stessa. Sotto di essa i sette cieli popolati da figure di cherubini e serafini in movimento. Il carro su cui la Vara è montata non ha ruote ed è tirato a mano per circa due chilometri e mezzo da una folla di devoti di ogni sesso, età e stato sociale. A causa del peso la Vara è tirata a mano grazie a due gomene lunghe centocinquanta metri. Molta terminologia usata nella vara è mutuata dalla storia marinara di Messina, per cui, oltre le gomene, vi sono i Timonieri, il Capotimoniere e i vogatori, tutti deputati al movimento coordinato della Vara e alla sua virata di circa ottanta gradi, da via Garibaldi al piazza Duomo, virata che rappresenta la parte più difficile e pericolosa del suo cammino. Nel suo andare da piazza Castronuovo a piazza Duomo, la Vara è preceduta dalle Varette, portate a spalla dai “devoti” che le muovono o facendole danzare o in modo rigido e formale. Nel filmato il primo tamburino richiama i devoti delle Varette e quindi dà il via alla loro processione.

THE VARA OF MESSINA - PART ONE: THE DANCE OF THE VARETTE - Pitrè, the ethnologist who studied Sicilian culture in its various aspects, was one of the first to identify Religious Festivals as one of the most important elements of Sicilian cultural identity. In his book “Religious Festivals in Sicily”, Pitrè tells in detail the history and particulars of the Vara of Messina but, since the book was published until today, many things in the many Sicilian festivals have changed. The Vara is a Sicilian word that literally means “coffin” as many of the religious festivals were born in the time of the Spanish to celebrate the dead Christ closed in a glass coffin. There are in fact many similarities between some Sicilian festivals and the processions of Valencia, Malaga, Seville and other cities in Spain where the dead Christ and his Passion are remembered. The word Vara soon became synonymous with all those structures used in religious processions to carry relics, sacred objects or on which to perform sacred representations. The Vara of Messina is a pyramidal structure that depicts the Assumption of Mary into Heaven, whose statue is placed at the highest point of the structure itself. Below it are the seven heavens populated by figures of cherubs and seraphim in motion. The cart on which the Vara is mounted has no wheels and is pulled by hand for about two and a half kilometers by a crowd of devotees of all sexes, ages and social classes. Because of its weight, the Vara is pulled by hand thanks to two one hundred and fifty meter long ropes. Much of the terminology used in the Vara is borrowed from the maritime history of Messina, so, in addition to the ropes, there are the Helmsmen, the Chief Helmsman and the rowers, all responsible for the coordinated movement of the Vara and its turn of about eighty degrees, from Via Garibaldi to Piazza Duomo, a turn that represents the most difficult and dangerous part of its journey. In its journey from Piazza Castronuovo to Piazza Duomo, the Vara is preceded by the Varette, carried on the shoulders of the “devotees” who move them either by making them dance or in a rigid and formal way. In the film, the first drummer calls the devotees of the varette and then starts their procession.

#sciatu #sicily #sicilian traditions #sicilian culture #Festival #hystory

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