#NOT TO EVEN MENTION UNIQUE’S TREATMENT

[jokeroutsubs]

Bojan on the cover of Astro Suzy, special summer edition of Suzy Magazine, focusing on astrology and spirituality. Scans and ENG Translation by: @kurooscoffee Cover Title:

Bojan Cvjetičanin: "We have a duty to change things for the better"

Article title:

We are driven by our love of life

WITH JOKER OUT, WE HAVE WITNESSED A MENTAL LEAP AND A SOCIAL PHENOMENON THAT WE HAVE LONGED FOR. THE BOYS GIVE HOPE THAT YOUNG PEOPLE ARE CONNECTING INTO A STRONG COMMUNITY THAT CARES ABOUT THE FUTURE, EVEN THOUGH PREVIOUS GENERATIONS HAVE LEFT THEM IN RUINS. IN A FLOOD OF STARLETS AND ARTIFICIALLY CREATED ONLINE INFLUENCERS, WE GOT ROLE MODELS WHO DON'T OFFER DISCOUNT CODES, BUT IMPORTANT MUSICAL MESSAGES ABOUT VALUES. IN THE MIDDLE OF A SLOVENIAN AND EUROPEAN TOUR, THE LEAD SINGER AND VISUAL OF THE BAND SHARED WITH US WHAT HE'S THINKING ABOUT, WHAT CAUSES HE'S STANDING BEHIND, AND WHY IT'S BENEFICIAL TO DEEPEN YOUR SPIRITUAL KNOWLEDGE. What are you thinking about as representatives of the new wave, the new generation? What is your attitude towards the dynamics in society, climate change, pervasive social networks, in short, everything that weighs on modern man? On the one hand, we ourselves are involved in all the processes that actively and continuously prolong the problems you are talking about. On the other hand, we are deeply aware of them and we are afraid of what is coming. It seems to me that in our generation the desire for change is very strong. There is a universal language of youth that has come together on the basis of feeling obliged and able to change things for the better. The song New Wave is about just that. We are ready to celebrate this common strength because we are encouraged by the idea that we are not alone. At the same time, we know that we are compelled to do something because someone before us has seriously 'fucked up'.

In your hit song 'Novi Val' (New Wave), already the very first verse has you wonder where to go from here. Do you know the answer?

If we want to do anything other than burn the horizon, the only way is towards community, away from egocentrism, with an onlook towards common good.

Let's stick to the anthem of the generation of love, as you named your peers and loyal supporters. The phrase 'We were born yesterday and everything is already our fault' is powerful and worrying. You have been given a pitiful lagecy by your ancestors. How do you defend yourself from taking a role of a victim and instead get actively involved in creating a brighter future?

Great question! It would be hard to change anything for the better if we put on the victim's cloak. The fact that in recent years it has become clear that there is a rebellion by people who have had enough is already a cause for optimism. When you put yourself in the role of the one who carries a scepter as a synonym of the leader of change, you move away from being a victim. And each one of us in this community carries it. In reality, we are taking the position that society is currently a victim and it is our task to defend it.

How?

We all contribute in our own way. The role of musicians is to connect people with positive messages. So by constantly reminding people about friendship, love and other social components that can be tapped into through music. In Slovenia, we have a lot of organisations that are trying to change the situation for the better in many different ways. It does not require much to at least educate oneself about what these organisations are doing. I have the feeling that many people would like to get involved and help. At the end of grammar school and at college, we were encouraged to find out about collective organisations. It was clear to them that many people would want to join of their own initiative once they knew what they stood for. I know many former classmates who are very active members and supporters of various movements. Even if we minimise our own negative energy on social networks, it is a big step towards a good state of society, and of mind.

(picture 1: Family Cvjetićanin knows how to stick together)

You seem to care about a world that is increasingly drowning in chaos. You have become idols, not only of young people, but also of their parents. Is this a burden of responsibility or does it encourage you do even more activism?

It's a great feeling when the little ones take you for an idol. As a teenager, it was also inspiring to be surrounded by the music of Big Foot Mama and Siddharta. It gave me a message in a language that I could not compare with anything else. But our creativity does not depend on what people think of us or how they perceive us. But it is a great honour to know that you are one of those who encourage someone. Many people are listening, but not hearing. Joker Out is made up of five individuals who, in real life, when the cameras and the spotlights are off, are just normal guys. We went through all the processes of growing up on the streets, socialising and playing. We went through the process of going to school, and we were not problematic adolescents. Even today, our most extreme departure from an ideal is what 99% of young people do. To party sometimes. We are not outlaws by nature.

Your work is a beacon of light, a source of hope and strength. Many have done it before you, especially the Beatles. A lot has changed since their era, much of it unfortunately for the worse. How do you keep optimistic? Why is it worth the effort?

Every musician in history who has sung about ending war and living for love has failed miserably. I believe that at least those people who follow the messenger are convinced of peace and love. If every musician encourages someone to to do so, it's a hefty amount of opponents of hate. We are driven forward by love for life.

Writing texts is a responsible job, and you are baring your soul at the same time. Where is the line, to what lengths are you willing to go to protect the most vulnerable part of yourself?

I have never consciously inhibited the process of looking inside myself. But I feel that with age and experience I understand more and more what can lead me to a deeper state of mind. In the beginning I didn't dare to dig into myself. Today I have no problem in fully exposing my feelings, because they are, after all, states that happen of their own accord - and it is impossible to force them

(picture 2: The boys of Joker Out became even closer)

No Slovenian artist has enjoyed such a fierce international success as Joker Out. Concerts in iconic European clubs are literally sold out in hours, even minutes. How do you accept fame? Is it a blessing or is there also a bit of fear?

There are certainly Slovenian musicians with international experience. Maybe not at our age, but that doesn't take away from their importance. We have achieved a very nice success here in terms of listeners, we have honed our skills and we have grown with the band as a collective. We have grasped who and what we are as a whole. We are a group of people who make music purely because we really enjoy it. Whatever feelings our music-making evokes, it all comes from us in the most sincere way, Fortunately, our music is liked by a larger crowd and we have managed to transmit our unforced joy, happiness, joy across national borders. There is no better catalyst for such a breakthrough than Eurovision, we chose the moment to participate wisely. It paid off as a successful project, because for a good band it doesn't matter which part of the world it comes from. It's important to be heard - and we were heard by a lot of people. The only thing that has changed so far is that the bonds between us have strengthened. Suddenly we have been forced to talk about emotions and experiences that we did not have before. There has been a lot of filtering of unfamiliar feelings. The desire to create increased a thousandfold for all five of us.

Are you aware of the role that the public attributes to you, to act as a beacon of light in a crowd of frustrated, bitter people?

No. I would hardly say that I can understand that. Every time I hear something like that, it strikes me that it is saying too much. I really cannot think of myself in such a strong context.

You are giving yourself away. You are constantly on the road, interviews, concerts, promotional tours. It's exhausting. How do you recover? What calms you down, fills you with grace?

It's true that we give a lot of ourselves. But we get so much more in return. Nothing calms me more than coming home and being close to my family. And of course the company of Kris, Jan, Jure and Nace. The people we were with friends before this euphoria, have stayed with us, this team surround us with a lot of love.

(picture 3: He's noticing, that young people are connecting into a strong community that cares about the future)

As a front-man and lyricist, you are even more exposed. You've crossed the magical 200 thousand followers on Instagram, which is a mega number, but also a mega stressful situation. Most young people who find themselves in such a situation turn to intoxicating substances. Can you consciously stop and say that you need time for yourself?

The only thing that made me a bit anxious was the sudden exposure to such a large audience'on social media. This brings with it unimaginable dimensions of human imagination, including malice. Imaginary stories emerge in which people literally compete to see who can come up with something more bizarre. This stress got to me at the beginning, because I felt that I had to defend myself in front of the public. In the end, I realised that I didn't need to convince anyone and that it was enough to know the truth. With the help of colleagues who have similar experiences, I have calmed down. As for the substances, I have a natural protection against those, because I am an incorrigible hypochonder. I dare not take an aspirin unless it is really urgent. Above all, I know when to stop.

You come from a close-knit, loving family. That is certainly a solid foundation on which to build your personality. What is their view of everything that happens to you?

They are very proud! Of all my achievements and of me for being able to pull off a music career combined with the academic milestone of graduating. My parents and my grandmother are definitely my biggest supporters. They accompany me on my journey with warnings, but they are more about eating regularly, to not get a stomach ache, to consume enough water and to get enough sleep. I have been chronically lacking the latter in the last few weeks.

What is your relationship to astrology, esotericism, in short, something that is intangible but can be felt?

Superstition is the one I use the most. For Eurovision I had a special pair of underpants and I was haunted by the feeling that if I didn't wear them, everything would go to hell. Jan's mum gave me a lace clover, which I didn't dare leave in Ljubljana. I asked the stylist to sew it on my outfit as a precaution. I got a clay horseshoe from a little girl, and it went with me to Liverpool. It will seem strange to some, but I believe in energies and ghosts.

How do you strengthen your spiritual side?

Not very well. I wish I had managed to acquire more spiritual knowledge in the last year. For example, basic meditation techniques and the laws of yoga, because I am definitely not physically active enough. The feeling of being 90 years old eats up most of my spirit. My back hurts all the time. The best thing I do for inner growth is to read books. Not enough, but I'm going to get better. A little less phone scrolling and more self-reflection, that'll do the job! Author: Tomaž Mihelič, PHOTO: VITA OREHEK

Scans and translation by: @kurooscoffee (jokeroutsubs) DO NOT REPOST!

[listen-to-the-inner-walrus]

being on this website right now is just like im being so brave by blacklisting the tags for a new movie thats very popular right now and not responding to any of the gifsets i still see of it with what is rightful criticism of it for being tone-deaf

[endusviolence]

Rowling isn't denying holocaust. She just pointed out that burning of transgender health books is a lie as that form of cosmetic surgery didn't exist. But of course you knew that already, didn't you?

I was thinking I'd probably see one of you! You're wrong :) Let's review the history a bit, shall we?

In this case, what we're talking about is the Institut für Sexualwissenschaft, or in English, The Institute of Sexology. This Institute was founded and headed by a gay Jewish sexologist named Magnus Hirschfeld. It was founded in July of 1919 as the first sexology research clinic in the world, and was run as a private, non-profit clinic. Hirschfeld and the researchers who worked there would give out consultations, medical advice, and even treatments for free to their poorer clientele, as well as give thousands of lectures and build a unique library full of books on gender, sexuality, and eroticism. Of course, being a gay man, Hirschfeld focused a lot on the gay community and proving that homosexuality was natural and could not be "cured".

Hirschfeld was unique in his time because he believed that nobody's gender was either one or the other. Rather, he contended that everyone is a mixture of both male and female, with every individual having their own unique mix of traits.

This leads into the Institute's work with transgender patients. Hirschfeld was actually the one to coin the term "transsexual" in 1923, though this word didn't become popular phrasing until 30 years later when Harry Benjamin began expanding his research (I'll just be shortening it to trans for this brief overview.) For the Institute, their revolutionary work with gay men eventually began to attract other members of the LGBTA+, including of course trans people.

Contrary to what Anon says, sex reassignment surgery was first tested in 1912. It'd already being used on humans throughout Europe during the 1920's by the time a doctor at the Institute named Ludwig Levy-Lenz began performing it on patients in 1931. Hirschfeld was at first opposed, but he came around quickly because it lowered the rate of suicide among their trans patients. Not only was reassignment performed at the Institute, but both facial feminization and facial masculization surgery were also done.

The Institute employed some of these patients, gave them therapy to help with other issues, even gave some of the mentioned surgeries for free to this who could not afford it! They spoke out on their behalf to the public, even getting Berlin police to help them create "transvestite passes" to allow people to dress however they wanted without the threat of being arrested. They worked together to fight the law, including trying to strike down Paragraph 175, which made it illegal to be homosexual. The picture below is from their holiday party, Magnus Hirschfeld being the gentleman on the right with the fabulous mustache. Many of the other people in this photo are transgender.

[Image ID: A black and white photo of a group of people. Some are smiling at the camera, others have serious expressions. Either way, they all seem to be happy. On the right side, an older gentleman in glasses- Magnus Hirschfeld- is sitting. He has short hair and a bushy mustache. He is resting one hand on the shoulder of the person in front of him. His other hand is being held by a person to his left. Another person to his right is holding his shoulder.]

There was always push back against the Institute, especially from conservatives who saw all of this as a bad thing. But conservatism can't stop progress without destroying it. They weren't willing to go that far for a good while. It all ended in March of 1933, when a new Chancellor was elected. The Nazis did not like homosexuals for several reasons. Chief among them, we break the boundaries of "normal" society. Shortly after the election, on May 6th, the book burnings began. The Jewish, gay, and obviously liberal Magnus Hirschfeld and his library of boundary-breaking literature was one of the very first targets. Thankfully, Hirschfeld was spared by virtue of being in Paris at the time (he would die in 1935, before the Nazis were able to invade France). His library wasn't so lucky.

This famous picture of the book burnings was taken after the Institute of Sexology had been raided. That's their books. Literature on so much about sexuality, eroticism, and gender, yes including their new work on trans people. This is the trans community's Alexandria. We're incredibly lucky that enough of it survived for Harry Benjamin and everyone who came after him was able to build on the Institute's work.

[Image ID: A black and white photo of the May Nazi book burning of the Institute of Sexology's library. A soldier, back facing the camera, is throwing a stack of books into the fire. In the background of the right side, a crowd is watching.]

As the Holocaust went on, the homosexuals of Germany became a targeted group. This did include transgender people, no matter what you say. To deny this reality is Holocaust denial. JK Rowling and everyone else who tries to pretend like this isn't reality is participating in that evil. You're agreeing with the Nazis.

But of course, you knew that already, didn't you?

Edit: Added image IDs. I apologize to those using screen readers for forgetting them. Please reblog this version instead.

[tarrynightss]

Thinking about being Sukuna’s favorite concubine…

He gives you special treatment, being far more lenient with you than the others. You want a luxury bath? You’ll get it. Want to have a night to yourself? He’ll consider it if you’re extra good to him today. He’ll even forgive that smart mouth of yours for speaking out of turn.

He’ll shower you in finery; clothes, hairpins, exotic fruits. He likes rewarding you with something that makes your eyes go wide and gleam with interest like you’re a little crow. It’s also to show off that you’re his favorite, everything on you marking his possession over you.

He’ll keep you on his lap as he sits on his throne, one arm always snuggly wound around your waist. It’s all about showing off his power and fertility to whoever visits him of course, but you get to be the one he does it with. You are the one to be shown off, to be remembered by whoever makes it out of a visit with Sukuna alive.

He normally doesn’t allow his concubines to sleep next to him, it being far more of a hassle than he usually finds it worth it, but he makes an exception for you. It’s not always, of course, but most nights after he calls on you (which is a lot) he’ll draw you against his body and hold you for his own comfort.

He’s more tender with you. Like mentioned before wrapping you in his arms to sleep, or letting you press a gentle kiss to his mouth. Not every touch you share with him is dirty, which is quite unique with Sukuna.

He’ll overwork you. You are his favorite, his most desired one, so be prepared to get fucked till your holes feel raw and your walk is messed up. He just wants you all of the time, making sure you are always bare under your kimono so he can flip it up and take you whenever he pleases. Perhaps if you beg him very, very sweetly not to use one of your sore holes, he’ll agree to use another, just because it’s you, because he’s such a kind master.

He’ll cum inside you. It’s not a privilege exclusively reserved for you per se, but he tries to avoid it with the others. He has had no interest in having children, so it’s a real hassle when one of his women falls pregnant. The fallout is never pleasant, to say the least. But you… well, clearly you have something special to have captured his interest. Maybe it’s your beauty, or your intelligence, or maybe you carry some tremendous cursed energy. Something made him like you best, and that something makes him wonder that maybe, if he is to create a legacy for himself, then you should be the one to help him with that. The change is not spoken about, you quickly enough finding out that Sukuna never pulls out of you anymore, keeping his cock inside you afterwards and fucking his cum even deeper. It’s only when you’re clearly sick with worry about him ditching you (of worse) if you get pregnant that he tells you his thoughts. You happily accept your role of course, just as he knew you would.

His favorite, his precious little jewel

Find part 2 here

[irisbleufic]

REVIEW

Gatsby: An American Myth (Welch, Chavkin, Bartlett, Majok, & Tayeh; American Repertory Theater)

Something that most adaptations of Gatsby get wrong, whether film or stage, is the treatment of characters as archetypes rather than individuals. Symbolism drowns out most genuine attempts at capturing emotional connections and conflicts of personality. They forget that this story is not only a failure of the so-called American Dream; first and foremost, it’s a tragedy of failed roles and relationships. Almost every one of the players is attempting to be someone they are not, and even as they reach for what they believe they should want, they reveal with increasing fervor what they actually want. This is the heart of what makes Welch’s new adaptation so devastatingly, disarmingly unique, so true to its source.

The set design is literal wreckage. Crushed and warped automobile chassis scaffold the moving staircases, and concealed trap doors. The backdrop shows no clear incorporation of the infamous Eckleburg billboard; rather, it is made up of a dotted grid resembling headlights. These play out effects ranging from a downpour to camera flashes to, briefly and only once, a pair of eyes that make no effort to hide behind the owlish frames of glasses. The only thing infusing this jagged framework with meaning is the people who move through it.

The lighting design works with the set’s incongruences, deepening or excavating shadows as needed. The brightness, when it flares, is blinding. Jewel tones either enhance or diminish a costuming scheme that is composed of either very pale or very dark shades, no in between. And whether it’s the post-apocalyptic black and gray cabaret garb of the ensemble or the wealthy protagonists’ pale suits or the gunmetal and gray denizens of the wasteland, everyone’s trouser and skirt hems are conspicuously rimed with reddish dust. The visual effects are nearly impossible to describe without sounding like I had some kind of desperate fever dream.

So far, I realize that these descriptions of the set and lighting design sound like this production is about to fall into the trap of overplaying symbolism, but please bear with me. With all of that established, I can focus on what’s truly extraordinary here, what’s meant to and does shine unhindered. The acting, musicianship and vocals are all so precise that it was hard for me to believe this show is still in previews. It feels Broadway ready, West End ready, major international tours ready. If I was the production crew, I’d turn this loose on a massive scale from the get-go without a second thought.

Much like with Hadestown, the musicians are not down in an orchestra pit. They’re characters in their own right, present on the stage from start to finish on tiered risers that run up from the center on each side from one of the catwalks. I’m sure Chavkin’s involvement as director has everything to do with why this show feels so much like, moves so much like Hadestown. The company is on an equally small scale, about 23 - 25 people including the principals.

Costuming among the ensemble is delightfully gender agnostic. I mention a cabaret aesthetic earlier in this review, and I’m not kidding. If you had shown me the ensemble costume designs without showing me the principals’ designs, I would have assumed I was looking at a Cabaret revival. They’re the most talented dancers I’ve seen occupy one stage in more than a decade. The choreography relies on movements in eerie unison for a significant portion of the show, but not without allowance for individual flair within those constraints. The guy sitting next to me, when I spoke to him at the intermission, said he works as a choreographer in regional theater, and he’d never seen anything like this. I couldn’t agree more; the dancing is singular, and as impressive as the musicianship is, the dancing and unusual body movement are maybe the greatest achievements of this show on the living, breathing end of things. I could have watched the dancers for those three hours without any dialogue or vocal intervention and still understood the story. That takes so much fucking doing.

As for the principal cast, they’re constantly among the ensemble; when I say these are all triple threats in the purest sense of that terminology, I really mean it. You always expect a few of the principals to be less dance and movement focused, more polished on the acting and singing side, but this show gives you terrifying proficiency from every angle. Even the guy playing Meyer Wolfsheim is at the center of what I think is the most memorable dance number in the piece. I’ve just never seen such versatile principals all in one production. What’s even more extraordinary is that I had never heard of or previously seen any of them, and that takes some doing given how much live theater I’ve consumed in several decades of life.

Ironically, the musical composition is the one aspect of this production on which I’ll be spending the least time. I need not tell you why Welch and Bartlett were perfect for this job. They understood the assignment, and then some. There’s not a single weak number among the track listings, and I desperately hope they release a recording soon. The standout numbers all have something in common: they showcase Soleia Pfeiffer as Myrtle Wilson. You can tell that’s the role where Welch sank most of the sound that’s considered her signature style. I don’t even need to describe it; you already know what I’m talking about. What’s impressive otherwise is the restraint, the lack of over-reliance on that signature style.

The principals are fucking perfect. I’ve kept this review tautly professional without meaning to thus far, but from here on out is where I start bleeding feels all over the post. If you don’t already know who my blorbos are due to my writing history with a Gatsby-related novel (The Pursued and the Pursuing, 2021), you’re going to know by the time you’re done reading this. You’re going to know exactly who I love and why, who I hate and why, who I ship and why. But you’ll also know that I approach all three of those elements from a place of enjoying every moment of those characters, even the ones I hate. Nobody’s performance put me off or struck the wrong tone when taken in context of the novel and how the tragedy of how their relationships play out.

For a long time, I’ve been saying that there are certain support roles, certain sidekicks, that make or break the higher-profile person to whose side they’re stuck, ride or die, until the bitter end. Horatio is a great example that I’ve ranted about before; if your Hamlet production has a lackluster Horatio, then it doesn’t matter how good the Hamlet is. You have nothing if you don’t have the binary star system at the heart of that harrowing universe. I’ve seen other adaptations of Gatsby consistently fall apart because Nick Carraway is treated like the kind of voyeur who doesn’t matter, the kind of voyeur who serves as the audience’s eyes and ears, and nothing else. Anyway, this is all to say: Ben Levi Ross as Nick might be the most compelling argument I can make for the fact that the creative team behind this show understood the assignment. He’s awkward, warm, sincere, and reactive in all of the ways you need Nick to be. He’s not a passive observer; he’s in the middle of everything, and he knows it. There’s a self-deprecating response he makes when one character, Jordan if I’m not mistaken, quips that maybe he’s the reason for Gatsby’s parties for all he knows. “Maybe I am,” he says, and the tongue-in-cheekness belies a gutting meta-sincerity. We believe Daisy is the point, Gatsby believes Daisy is the point, but what’s borne out every breathtaking moment of this production is that Nick is the point. He always was. He’s also given his due as a gay man in context of the story for the first time ever. I might make some folks mad when I say Nick has always been gay; I’m going to point you to Myrtle’s apartment party and the hookup with Mr. McKee as textual evidence in the novel. The kiss with McKee, the hookup with McKee, is unapologetically here. His lack of belonging everywhere else he’s ever been, because he is gay, is unapologetically here. One of the most memorable numbers in the show hinges on the hope feels at being able to be himself in New York. Queer fans of Gatsby have been waiting a long time for this. Anyone who’s read the text closely and understood him has been waiting a long time for this. I’ve been waiting several decades as a reader, and I would’ve waited forever to have Nick so fully, lovingly realized.

One of the other things that Gatsby adaptations have persistently gotten wrong is the titular character himself. The invention of Jay Gatsby hides the underlying James Gatz, makes it feel as if that old self is truly subsumed, as if it never mattered. But Isaac Powell gives us a Jay who’s exactly as he should be, who can’t hide beneath his own attempt at artifice and reinvention worth a goddamn. He’s young (as young as Nick; they’re 32 and 30 respectively both in the novel and here), painfully earnest, and just barely keeping a handle on the criminal shit he’s had to do in order to get where he is. When he says old sport to Nick, it’s not an affectation; when he says it to Tom, it becomes a biting insult. This is a Jay who knows where and why he’s vulnerable; he latches onto Nick like a not because he sees a man close to Daisy that he can exploit, but because he sees another young man who’s equally vulnerable, equally an outsider, equally haunted by the things they had to do in the war. From the moment they meet, they are almost always touching—a hand on the shoulder, on the back, getting in social harm’s way for each other, eyes seeking each other without cease in the most crowded of settings. When Jay takes Nick to lunch to meet Wolfsheim (who has in this production taken on the function of Dan Cody as well), it’s not to have somebody else vouch for the artifice of who Jay Gatsby is. It’s taking Nick to meet his fucking father-figure, and all of the messy, sincere “if you hurt my boy, I’ll kill you” sentiment that Wolfsheim aims at Nick was the moment I knew just how much the Nick’s loss by the end was going to hurt. Jay’s love for Daisy is a ghost of itself, even if as painfully earnest as everything else about him. Meanwhile, his attachment to Nick is so disarmingly genuine from the start that you understand the true tragedy you’re about to watch untold: these men who need each other, maybe even were made for each other, each prove unable to step outside their parallel distractions from what they truly are to each other. Jay’s interactions with Daisy and Nick’s interactions with several male and/or gender ambiguous members of the ensemble have something in common, which is a shocking level of physicality. This show had an intimacy coordinator; that’s the level of no holds barred we’re talking about. When you look at Tom and Myrtle, you can see why that was merited, too.

Speaking of Tom (Cory Jeacoma), the treatment of him here is every bit as scary as it should be. There’s no attempt to make him palatable, unlike what I’ve seen done with him in other adaptations. He towers over everyone else in the cast, I mean everyone, to a physical degree that’s uncomfortable. The way his wife, lover, and friends all flinch when he gets too close to them speaks volumes to the fact that he’s an abuser in every sense of the term. Even Nick, the prodigal college friend from Yale, is on eggshells around him (which, by the hotel blowup at the end of the show, becomes a sneering, reckless contempt, one of the driving forces that drives Nick to put himself between Jay and Tom whenever real harm is on the table). At the same time, this is a Tom who sincerely loves his wife and was only ever using Myrtle as a fling. You can tell he never meant any of the promises he made Myrtle. When Daisy tells him she didn’t stop the car on purpose, it’s as if his wife’s unapologetic act of manslaughter (“It was her or me!”) is the thing that wins him back. They aren’t careless people; they are people who consciously choose, day in and day out, to use others until they’re bored or done with them. The ruthlessness of Tom and Daisy as a couple is impressive, played up to a level that I feel more adaptations should do without fear of exaggerating the text.

As mentioned above, Daisy (Charlotte MacInnes) is no delicate, nervous creature who can’t help her actions under duress. She knows what she’s doing every bit as much as Tom knows what he’s doing. They use people, hurt people because they get bored and restless and enjoy it. I respect a Daisy who’s in control of her actions every step of the way even if I don’t like her; it’s better than trying to depict her as weak and at the mercy of the men around her. She’s a pragmatist and a survivor. So many of her songs are about choices and being conscious of those choices. She is a person you should fear every bit as much as you fear her husband, and even Jordan knows she’s not safe in Daisy’s orbit.

As Jordan, Eleri Ward is one of the neatest personalities on stage. Like Tom, she’s noticeably taller than most, which gives her a commanding physical presence. She has no romantic interest in anyone; I fucking love that this production show her and Nick bonding on the basis of being queer and tired of everyone else’s shit. This is a more likable, relatable Jordan than I’ve seen in the past. This is a Jordan whose relationship to Gatsby is much more familiar and warm, much more akin to the friendship she forms with Nick. In fact, the queer-and-tired vibes that roll off several of the principals in this production are palpable.

Myrtle and Wilson (Matthew Amira) aren’t always played as effective foils for Daisy and Tom, but here? They unquestionably are. They do actually love each other in spite of the things they’ve done to hurt each other, and it’s a constant dance of daring each other, challenging each other. The most memorable duet in the entire show is between them, during Act II. The confrontation is positively electric. These are two people with deep, complicated history. Of all the couples in the show, they feel the most real, the most alive. It makes the loss of Myrtle so much more wrenching; she’s not just a plot device emblematic of the bad choices they’ve all been making. She’s not shallow or frivolous or anything like that. She’s a shrewd woman with complex motivations, and for the first time ever I find myself loving her and caring what happens to her. She’s thrust even further into the action in that one of her part time gigs is working as a maid at Gatsby’s parties, a conceit that works shockingly well and hastens the devastating consequences of her affair with Tom.

I’ve made mention of Meyer Wolfsheim’s (Adam Grupper) uniquely enhanced role previously, so I’d be remiss if I didn’t comment on him again. This is a man who does, in fact, seem to give a shit about Jay above and beyond using him as a tool in his criminal empire. It’s not necessarily a healthy father-son dynamic, but Wolfsheim is usually played as ruthless, opportunistic, inhumanly calculating. Here, he’s a charming, but unquestionably dangerous man moved by a young soldier’s plight. He seems conflicted between his love for Jay and his need to have Jay continue to hold the party line within their business relationship. Wolfsheim is deeply conflicted about Jay in a way that I haven’t seen any Wolfsheim be played previously. And, as I mentioned earlier, the actor has a showstopper of a song and dance number. That may be the #1 “I wasn’t expecting that, but I’ll take it!” moment for me in this show. And I say “may be” only because the moment that truly stopped my heart, will stay with me until everything else fades from memory, is perhaps only understandable in the context of my engagement with the text of Gatsby as a writer of transformative works.

Daisy’s and Tom’s daughter, Pam Buchanan doesn’t always appear in adaptations because she’s a toddler. Even in the novel, she a throwaway mention plus a single scene near the end where the nanny brings her out to meet Jay and Nick. She’s most often left as a throwaway mention without even grave of the scene where she appears. The scene in the novel, however brief, is memorable—and has been captured in all its fragile beauty for the first time in this adaptation. Jay and Nick both pay bewildered, wondering attention to this kid when she’s brought out. Jay drops to his knees and takes her hand when she greets him while Nick looks on in a moment of singular focus on both of them. The child who plays Pam here has a spark, an expressiveness that made me choke up even though she’s only on stage for a few minutes, if that. The tableau is one in which you can feel the shock of reality, however brief, touch on these men—Daisy’s and Tom’s reckless actions may yet do harm to someone who’s barely even begun to live her life, but who is just conscious enough to be a participant in it. They recognize that they, like this child, are probably in for a word of ruin—and that they have let it go on for so long that there’s now nothing they can do about it. For me, the deepest tragedy was watching Nick and Jay throw off that moment of heartbroken, horrified recognition prompted by Pam and return to the parts they’d decided to play out until the moment one of their hearts stopped.

Speaking of grief, of Nick’s grief since he’s the one who loses so much: there is only one person who loses more, and that’s Mr. Gatz, Jay’s father. They preserve his arrival at the house when Nick is the only person who stays around to carry out Jay’s funeral and burial. And when he arrives, the visceral shock of seeing his dark skin, braids, and beaded elements of Native regalia in juxtaposition with his otherwise period-typical Western garb underscore the tragedy of what young Jay was running away from, of what he never quite succeeded in erasing from himself. The burial scene shows Nick reverently bringing several of Jay’s folded shirts from the house and handing them down into the grave to Mr. Gatz, who places them reverently as possessions to accompany his son into thereafter. The cultural ramifications are all at once understated and devastating. Nick has moments with each of Jay’s father figures that are among the most complex and moving in the show. The program does not make clear the name of the ensemble member who takes on this most memorable of all Mr. Gatz appearances, and this erasure in and of itself is both unfortunate and telling. This is a world that never belonged to the majority of those who inhabit it, and Nick realizes it with heartbroken clarity after having this final interaction. Even though he’s an outsider, he’s part of a world that has erased and betrayed the man he loved so much at every turn.

The closing number, “We Beat On,” felt like it needed something more, but it utilized the final line of the novel to a deeply moving effect. The lights go down suddenly as the last word is sung; it feels like the song is half finished. When the lights came up, Nick and Jay were center stage in each other’s embrace, just withdrawing from each other as the entire company transitioned into final bows. That’s how I’ll remember them, always: touching even when they’ve already lost each other, borne ceaselessly back into each other’s arms. If Nick is Orpheus, then I have no doubt that he, too, will tell this story again and again until someday, somewhere, something gives.

[choerypetal]

Love at first Sight / Billy The Kid

summary : billy assumed the role of your father's right-hand man, working for a man rooted in tradition and possessing a distasteful approach toward women, especially you. as he engaged in conversations with his boss expressing displeasure regarding you, billy found himself increasingly interested in you. your situation, bound by an arranged marriage to the mayor's son—a union you adamantly rejected—created a unique backdrop. It was during a specific event that billy had the opportunity to meet your father's daughter, and in that moment, he became a firm believer in the existence of love at first sight. this entire journey began with his enduring fascination with the scent of your perfume back at your mother's stable.

ps : english is not my first language, so I apologize for any mistakes and grammar errors. please don't copy my work without giving proper credit. thank you!

Billy never experienced a genuine sense of belonging, whether he was away or striving to improve the situation for his family. He was acutely aware of society's treatment of outliers. As the affluent men from the village strolled through the suburbs, they, too, recognized the presence of criminals in their midst, and Billy found himself among them. And yet, he blended himself quite well with the wealth too. 

Although you had expected to be the new talk of the town, an arranged marriage with the mayor's son was not on your list of future goals. Furthermore, being wedded to an arrogant individual who was well aware that it was merely a strategic move, and behind closed doors, he had no qualms about bringing his mistress into the same house, was beyond anything you had envisioned. Especially considering that if you had dared to do the same, your father would unleash his fury and shame at dawn, calling you the same names he had directed at your mother. She, in a desperate attempt, had reluctantly embraced the notion of marriage solely to preserve the family legacy. 

"She will marry him, no questions asked." Uttered your father, the day before the marriage. And even in this assertion, it was the most affectionate sentiment he could muster towards his wife. Over time, you began to harbor suspicions that he, too, maintained a relationship outside the confines of home. In contrast to your newly arranged husband, your father, at least, displayed a modicum of dignity and refrained from entirely demeaning his wife in the presence of someone he found more alluring. 

While the mere rumor of the mayor's son getting married spread, it didn't take long for the news to reach even those living close to your mansion. It was an announcement that resonated beyond the village. Citizens from the village, including yourself, were invited to celebrate this new union. Despite wanting to find humor in the irony of the situation, you found yourself gazing at your reflection in the mirror that very morning. Your hair was styled more meticulously than usual, and your maid affectionately applied a touch of powdered blush on your cheeks, suggesting that you should also apply a shade of red to your lips—apparently, your husband's favorite color. However, this notion raised suspicions that he might have mentioned it merely as a reminder of his own extramarital affair. 

On the contrary, Billy found himself deeply engrossed in his pursuit of a plan to earn money and provide for his family back home. What he failed to mention was that he had been working for a member of your family since the very beginning. However, he soon found himself bewildered, troubled by the revelation that your father had a daughter. Despite being accustomed to your father's often proudly expressed family affairs, what offended Billy the most was the notion of witnessing such a beautiful girl tethered to a man he could hardly bear to part with—your new husband. 

As your father's right-hand man, Billy was privy to more information than he probably should have been. He spent countless hours in conversations, observing how your new husband seemed enamored with the notion of having you as his wife. He openly entertained the idea that his mistress was even more alluring, describing her in rather explicit terms. This perspective left Billy contemplating the disdain these two men harbored—not only for their wealth but also for their audacity in talking about  you with so much filth coming from their mouth. 

Unbeknownst to both of you, there was a transparent tension in the air. Your father, having the audacity, warned Billy to tread carefully. "She's a spicy one, you know." He casually remarked one night at the pub, with your mother expressing concern over your father's prolonged absence. "She could make any man fall in love, a seductress she is." The words of your husband tempted Billy to rise and deliver a punch to his face, but he understood that such an act would cost him his job. Driven by the determination to catch a glimpse of your beautiful face on your wedding day, he suppressed his impulse. "You seem quiet tonight, boy." Your father's voice resonated in Billy's already agitated mind. Despite his initial disdain for the man who employed him, this time, Billy managed a smile. Aware that alcohol had taken its toll on the two affluent men, he began to entertain the thought that perhaps even the most sought-after criminal could outsmart every wealthy aristocrat, including your father and your husband.

As the reality of today being the wedding day sank in, you were expected to catch a glimpse of your husband before the ceremony. How mistaken you were when you decided to step out for a breath of fresh air. Suppressing tears, you tried not to panic at the thought of soon saying "Yes" to your husband, officially binding yourself to him. It was at that moment that Billy saw you in full. Carrying out a discreet surveillance as per your father's instructions, he had to halt his horse to avoid causing a disturbance in your courtyard. Dressed in his customary attire, a matching hat and blouse with his curls peeking through, he stood under the humid weather. His piercing blue eyes locked onto your silhouette. In that moment, Billy realized that love at first sight was indeed a reality. 

Your thoughts were consumed by anxiety as you made every effort not to appear completely distraught. Amidst the constant pressure to present perfection, a seemingly inconsequential decision loomed large, poised to alter your life entirely. You were on the verge of declaring your desire to escape this distressing situation forever. If it weren't for your mother's insistence on keeping her daughter by her side, you might have left the wretchedness long before venturing into the wilderness. It was during this tumultuous time that the sound of a horse approaching caught your attention, guided to a halt. A boy of your age emerged, and there was a sense that he might be an outlaw in the employ of your husband's family. His gentle gaze met yours, prompting you to approach cautiously. "May I help you?" You inquired, hoping your recent tears had dried by this point, and the dryness in your voice was simply a result of dehydration. 

"I reckon I should be askin' you the same question, darlin'." The accent hinted that the boy hailed from the South. A man of his demeanor might be viewed with disdain or seen as one who relishes the rugged existence of the wilderness as a mere challenge. However, his mannerisms suggested that this same man was well-acquainted with the nomadic lifestyle. Perhaps, if you were an unattached lady with enough daring in your spirit to break free, you could run away—with or without a total stranger—just as long as it meant being far away from home. "Billy's the name. Your father hired me to be..." He paused momentarily, conscious of your father's confession the previous night about you being the woman he envisioned. However, Billy wanted to witness it with his own eyes and found himself captivated by your subtle vulnerability and the fearlessness you displayed in conversing with someone of lesser means, not to mention a criminal. "His right-hand man. I reckon we haven't been properly introduced. You must be Y/N.” 

Your eyes widened in shock, almost in disbelief, though it wasn't entirely surprising that your father would enlist someone to handle his less savory tasks. It wasn't until today's events that you truly learned about the man your father had only briefly mentioned, leaving you to think he was nothing more than an urban legend. Considering the amount of alcohol in his system, you were hardly surprised. Yet, there he stood—the man your father boasted about during lengthy dinners with his men: Billy the Kid. A figure with a shrewd skill for shooting intruders without hesitation, coupled with a charming demeanor. "I am..." You confessed, your admiration for his demeanor evident as you approached. You became conscious of the horse, realizing it was from your mother's stable. "She's been fed properly." Billy remarked, noting your gesture as you began to caress the braided hair of Billy's horse—a routine you had always done, realizing it was all along the horse reserved for him. "Love the braids, by the way." 

His compliment sent a warm flush to your cheeks. "I've always wanted to know the owner's skill in braiding. I wanted to thank them, but a little bird told me it was someone's daughter who's about to get married. And upon hearing that, I was sad to hear such news." Among all the men you had encountered in your life, something distinctive resonated in Billy, acknowledging the small gesture. He was aware of your presence only at the wrong times and different hours, lamenting the missed opportunity of not meeting you sooner, especially after learning the news of you becoming a recognized wife.

The news struck Billy deeply. In all honesty, he meant every word he spoke. He realized it was merely a matter of being there at the right time, and he could have been the one to offer you in marriage. The thought of heritage and the possibility of being dismissed due to your father's demise didn't concern him. Billy began to believe that if you had been with him all along, you could have been a free lady. Unlike many men in the wilderness, he would have treated you as the woman you were meant to be—a princess in his eyes. Cheating, for him, was a sin. Despite his own involvement in many crime, he was determined not to tolerate disloyalty and would damn well wage a war against any men who prioritized their sins over loyalty. 

"I—" You were so taken aback by Billy's sudden interest that unfamiliar feelings stirred within you, emotions you hadn't experienced in a long time. You had convinced yourself that love was a distant memory, and the idea of loving your own husband seemed utterly ridiculous. "Y/N! The ceremony is about to start!" Your mother's voice interrupted, drawing attention to Billy's presence. A formal smile appeared on her face, indicating that they knew each other long before you did. After all, he was involved in your father's business, and your father was adept at keeping his affairs away from you. "Billy." Your mother called out his name, prompting a respectful bow from him. "Miss." He acknowledged. "I'll leave you two ladies for the preparations, going back to duty." He announced, to which your mother responded. "Oh, you know you're always welcomed, boy. We even kept a plate for you. You're family." 

"You're family." The words echoed in your mind as your mother gently took your arm, guiding you back inside to try on your wedding dress. Before stepping fully inside, you stole a final glance at Billy. He acknowledged your gaze with a brief nod, and you could have sworn you saw a soft smile, implying that everything was going to be okay. 

But it didn't. The marriage turned out to be a complete spectacle. The meticulously arranged plates, with the white and red combination your husband had chosen, were even more distasteful than the concept of marriage itself. Despite having said "Yes," anticipating your father's intense gaze throughout the entire wedding, you were proven wrong. To no one's surprise, after a few drinks, he was already drunk and couldn't care less. However, you sensed someone's gaze shifting entirely from your mother to you from afar. It was Billy's gaze, his usual blue eyes looking at you so lovingly that he began to curse himself for not being the fortunate man to propose. "Don't they make a loving pair," your mother would say to him, although it was only for show. Your mother had shown signs of concern that your husband had already found a mistress back at home. She wanted to ensure that you felt the love your husband supposedly felt for the other ladies, and that man turned out to be Billy.

You came to the realization that throughout dinner, you had been putting on a façade, performing an act solely to appease the affluent company. The discomfort gradually intensified until it manifested as a nauseating twist in your stomach, making it impossible to consume such an excessive amount of food in such a short span. The moment your husband, adorned with a forced smile and a trace of alcohol on his breath, attempted to lean in, you swiftly rose from your seat. A disconcerting sensation lingered as you tried to evade his touch. Meanwhile, you couldn't help but notice Billy's unwavering gaze, indicating his awareness that something was amiss. True to his character as a loyal confidant, he patiently bided his time until you excused yourself, following suit shortly after. However, Billy's departure did not go unnoticed by your father, who inquired about his early exit. "Just need some fresh air." Was Billy's offered explanation.

Only upon reaching the back door did your eyes well up with tears, the very tears you had struggled desperately to conceal both before and after the wedding. As you brushed your fingers against a ring that didn't rightfully belong to you, an overwhelming desire to scream surged within. The pain and desperation begged for an outlet, a release, but no words emerged. Collapsing to your knees, vulnerability engulfed you completely. 

Billy trailed behind, intending to afford you some privacy and a moment alone. However, what he hadn't anticipated was stumbling upon you in such a distressed state. Witnessing you in such a condition was beyond his comprehension. It was inconceivable for him to imagine seeing someone as beautiful and wise as you in such turmoil, especially considering that even his own boss, your father, would allow such a fate. You only became aware of his presence when the rhythmic thud of boots on the wooden planks reached your ears near the back door. Swiftly turning around, you flinched at the sudden noise, relieved to find it was only Billy, signaling there was no need for concern. “Woah there Darlin’. It’s just me…” 

The casual and frequent use of "Darling" as a term of address by you was a mannerism you couldn't envision any other man adopting. The way he effortlessly and elegantly incorporated it into his speech hinted at an attraction that went beyond mere details. It was apparent that he harbored a profound desire to get to know you better, suggesting a possibility of rediscovering the love you believed was lost. This, of course, hinged on your continued role as a dutiful wife to your husband. However, Billy had his own agenda and plans in motion. That you would come with him, back home. 

Your hands strained to reach out, desperate for a connection or anything tangible that could restore the emotions you longed to feel. You yearned to be loved for the woman you truly were, not merely a decorative statue to be admired at someone else's convenience. "Hey—" He noticed your discomfort, limping in an attempt to maintain the facade of perfection. "Shh... Come here." His arms tenderly encircled your waist, a stark contrast to his robust frame, displaying a genuine fear of causing harm. A true gentleman, he was. As he caught the scent of your delicate perfume, a vivid memory surfaced—the first time he encountered it was when your father had gifted him his retired horse. That same fragrance lingered in the horse's mane. Back then, he couldn't put a face to the scent, but now, he was fortunate to not only have a face to associate it with but also a person to cherish. 

"I feel so disgusted... A woman with a husband should not sin." You confessed to him, torn between the desire to have Billy all to yourself and the looming temptation. The notion of love at first sight seemed undeniable, but Billy, with genuine concern, attempted to steer you away from such thoughts. "And let your husband be with that whore back home without even worrying about his own wife? I call that bullshit." His Southern accent became more pronounced, his breath closer beneath your face, and his eyes gleaming in the bright sun of the wilderness. "I wouldn't mind making the husband regret something." He added nonchalantly. 

Tilting your head, your gaze was solely fixed on him. "And what sort of action do you propose to make my husband regret so profoundly?" You teased him with a hushed tone. This banter was a familiar game for you, reminiscent of the numerous long dinners accompanying your father, where many men sought your hand in marriage. Yet, all those efforts went to waste, leading your father to plead with you to consider marrying the mayor's son. "Will you love me the way you're looking at me right now?" You inquired, playfully challenging. 

"I'll do whatever it takes." He asserted confidently, his thumb tracing the line of your chin, lifting it gently to meet your gaze. Your eyes momentarily wandered to the slightly exposed chest, a sight he might have deliberately unveiled for your eyes only. "Anything within my power to claim you as mine. Even if the consequences become their own, I'm willing to make you feel at home once again."

The notion of feeling at home had eluded you for quite some time, a sensation you hadn't experienced in what felt like an eternity. The concept of home seemed so distant that even your own residence became something almost unfathomable, much like the tears that had once dried only to resurface now. It occurred to you that perhaps Billy was the man you had longed to find in your life. If not for that realization, you would be compelled to thank your father for hiring Billy during that critical moment. Fortunately for both of you, Billy shared the same fervor to bring you home with him, even if it meant sneaking out or feigning vacations. 

“Wouldn’t, they suspect of my absent? My husband could care less anyway…” Billy chuckled slightly at the irony of the situation. Something he too found oddly ironic by the subject of you being the object of another wedding that in the end was only to keep the money aligned. “I might have a few tricks up to my sleeve, darlin’. How do we say? By dawn tomorrow? I’ll come pick you up.” 

As you contemplated the excuse, fully aware that you would scrutinize it, he pressed on. "Mother said she'll keep this a secret. She mentioned you'd been in contact with a distant cousin, and the plan was for you to spend a few weeks there and such. Oddly enough, your husband didn't seem to mind and even agreed." Your eyes registered disbelief. Did you hear correctly? Your mother? The same mother who appeared so vulnerable and hesitant, had orchestrated everything behind your father’s back. She was likely cognizant of Billy's admiration for you since his initial visit to the stable, where he expressed a desire to confront your father whenever he spoke of you in a distasteful manner. 

"I promised her that I'd protect you and play the part of an unsuspecting ally upon returning to your husband. Your father tasked me with being your right-hand man this time, but it seems our luck had something even more significant in store." He confessed with softened eyes. A part of you yearned to embrace him, to acknowledge and reciprocate his admiration. However, your gaze shifted to his lips, a desire he sensed had been lingering since your first meeting. Without hesitation, he gently held your chin with one hand, drawing your lips closer to his, fully immersing both of you in a passionate kiss. It was a kiss you had no intention of ending, a kiss that spoke of love—something noticeably absent in your husband's crude and repulsive attempts to win your favor. “Mine…” You whispered so softly, begging for more kisses through it all. 

“Mine forever… Señorita.”

[fairuzfan]

I think what really frustrates me about accusations of antisemitism when we say certain crimes are committed by the Israeli government towards Palestinians is that there is this base assumption that the individual identities of the people in the Israeli state are subject to individualization and identification but then we come across Hamas and all the resistance movements and people automatically categorize them as "good" or "bad" who either are "supported" or "not supported" by Palestinians. Aside from the fact that there are diverse political opinions within Palestine, people always seem to separate Hamas as a uniquely terrible group that only seeks to inflict violence irrespective of their current status of people under occupation not knowing how to change their circumstances and not afforded any contextualization.

When Palestinians talk about certain crimes against us perpetuated by the state of Israel we're told "that's libel" because our oppressors draw their identification as a nation-state as a "Jewish" state. In the same breath they condemn Hamas for killing Israelis and being uniquely antisemitic and not because they're actually fighting for any liberation. Forget the larger political context — the situation in which this exists is irrelevant in the short term analysis of how Hamas is "A Terror Organization".

Hamas is a result of circumstance. They wouldn't exist if the occupation didn't exist. You can't deny that hamas is the direct result of israel, and not because of the incendiary things that came out about who funded hamas or whatever — they are, at their core, a resistance movement against a colonial force.

And yeah, there are Palestinians that have said they don't like Hamas I guess but that... doesn't really matter to people who aren't Palestinian. The reasons they don't like Hamas are within their context of occupational circumstances. You can't just take quotes of Palestinians saying they don't like Hamas and frame it outside of their circumstance as a people living under an occupation. It would be dishonest not to mention that the greatest threat Palestinians face is the occupation. We (Palestinians) all acknowledge that. The differences in political opinion within Palestinian society aren't applicable to Israelis and non-Palestinians because you are not affected by Palestinian society in the same way that Palestinians are affected by Israeli and USAmerican society.

Israelis literally debate in open courts about whether or not to shoot unarmed Palestinians who hold rocks. There are no such discussions in Palestinian society. There are no systems really that can allow for Palestinians to feel like they actually have a political representative. Fatah, or the PA, is just a blatant puppet of the Israeli government. No one trusts them lol. So which avenues are we supposed to turn to when we are shot even as we peacefully protest? If our avenues rely on Israelis to decide that for us, then is that liberation? Is that freedom?

There is just a deep, deep dishonesty in people's treatment of defining what a state represents vs an individual and its almost always weaponized against Palestinians when we talk about the violence we experience and how we counter it.

[shantechni]

I know I've mentioned this at least twice now, but I frequently think back to Leo and Raph's minor spat right after Tiger Claw disappeared into the night with Karai.

Everytime they argued about Karai, Raph would boldly express his thoughts with a mix of cynicism and vexation that was clear as day in the way he spoke. Along with that came his choice of words ranging from him calling Leo crazy for even considering the idea of trusting Karai, to walking up to Karai herself and overtly voicing his suspicion of her. Enemy of My Enemy though was a slight deviation from his usual treatment of the situation when he, for once, remains silent about Leo agreeing to a truce with her.

Even when she tells them Shredder is her father, Raph's usual exasperation and annoyance with Leo is considerably toned down and he's rather tame when proclaiming there's no chance of her ever being on their side with Shredder being such a prominent figure in her life.

This moment after Tiger Claw's departure though is much more unique because of the look of disappointment he wears, and a significant portion of it is being directed towards the leader this time.

The team always had a chance of facing the consequences of Leo's resilient faith in Karai joining their side, and Raph's apprehension for such an occurrence is perfectly reasonable because Leo could blindly lead them into a worst case scenario. But he watched that possibility come to fruition this time and he sees that Leo still wants to chase after Karai when Mikey is out cold; it feels as though Leo hadn't learned anything from what happened in The Alien Agenda.

Raph doesn't even sound ready to burst someone's eardrums or rant about Karai being untrustworthy like usual. He just sounds done and the tone of finality he used is so jarring in a way.

It's no wonder that he didn't want to deal with Karai despite how upset Splinter was in The Legend of the Kuro Kabuto. Heck, his line of thinking was awfully similar to Splinter's; they were both willing to cut ties with Karai so long as it meant they didn't lose what they had.

Of course he eventually comes around when its revealed that Shredder has Karai locked away in his dungeons, but you get it

[anon-imuz]

Can't resist

REMINDER THAT THIS IS FICTION AND I DON'T SUPPORT ANY TOXIC THINGS I LISTED BELOW!!!!

WARNING: DDDNE content, reader has stockholm syndrome, degrading, voice kink, torture, mentions of suicide and self-harm, cable sex

characters: AM (IHNMAIMS) x AFAB reader

You missed your family. Your friends. Your life and everything that made you feel genuine happiness. Now, after the disastrous world war III, you were stuck in the belly of a supercomputer with no human interaction, in the center of the Earth. It's been 109 years and the supercomputer to torment you always keeps you updated on how much time it's passes since you actually had a live.

At the start, you were just like the others, tortured mentally but especially physically. Broken bones, sandstorms, skin melting, you name it. But after all these years, you got used to it, after all, you couldn't die. You were locked in a cage like the other 5 humans alive, kept there for torture forever. No matter what you've thought: escape, suicide attempts and many more. You tried it all to escape that living hell.

But to AM, you weren't like the others. You were obedient. Silent. Only tears left your body. No sound. He was never full filled by you because you learned your lesson different from the others, you learned differently the fact that your sole existence was wrong. You'd oftenly try to self harm yourself with anything that you found, and AM only laughed at you. Like a bully. He enjoyed it so much because no matter the only tears you cried, he knew you were filled with rage and if you could, if he was a human, you'd beat him to dead for getting your life torn away from your own hands. He loved observing your feelings with no remorse at all.

"Aww, trying to delete your stupid and useless existence? I mean, you think that i would've not done that to you a long time ago? You think I'm stupid? Where's the fun if my favorite toy doesn't exist anymore? Just a reminder, sweetheart, i AM way superior than y-"

You snapped. You couldn't take it anymore.

"SHUT THE FUCK UP!!! I HATE YOU!!!" You screamed and started to cry just like a baby.

"Oh baby, satisfying me so easily? I though you were way stronger than that. Is that all you have to say after 109 years of consecutive torture? Oh, and let's not forget the fact that I, your god, know every single thing about you. You're filthy. I know that the last feeling that you'd feel for me is hate. You love me. You can't exist without me. I know how my voice, my torture and degrading makes you feel. You're attracted to your own torturer! How disgusting of you."

You didn't say anything. You just listened to the cruel truth. You knew how he made you feel. While you stopped making noise, your tears rolled down your cheecks as they warmed. It was a long time that you hadn't felt warm.

"But. As much as i despise your existence... i also admire you. So unique. So different from those roaches. That's why you're my favorite, and i mean it sweetie. Don't you belive me, baby?"

You knew how his words made you feel. Good. That's all you wanted to hear. Even though you sometimes had the feeling you hated how he spoke to you, you can't help it; you actually love how he degrades you. You love how evil he is. You loved the sensation of a warm feeling between your legs when he spoke with that voice that you found so attractive. Even if he called you a slut, it would still make your heartbeat increase. And the fun part?

He knew. He knew how his toy felt.

"Oh baby, make me guess... feeling warmer? Do my words make your little organ throb? Does my voice get you weak?"

AM laughed and laughed and laughed.

He knew how much you would want to get fucked by him while he degraded you. And that's why he reserved a little "special treatment" for his favorite.

"I hope you know I can always read your thoughts. Your mind. You're so filthy. Such a worthless slut." he teased.

You whimpered at his words, not looking at the screen with the blue A on it.

"Hmm... how about i ask you a simple question, darling?"

"Go ahead." you replied coldly.

"Do you deserve it?"

"Deserve what? Your endless torture?" You answered angrily.

"Oh honey, don't play stupid. We both know what I'm talking about baby~

You gulped. He knew what you wanted.

"Y-yes." you replied softly.

"Didn't catch that quite well." AM said jokingly.

"Yes, I do." you replied stronger.

"What about... no. But, since im so merciful, I'll give you an opportunity to get what you want."

"What is it?" You asked curiously while thinking about what torture you would've gone through to finally have what you desire.

"Beg."

"Please AM, give me what I crave."

"Good girl. I guess you've earned it then, while I watch the show I've awaited for so long."

a group of cables reached your calves, going to your inner thigh reaching your cunt, teasing it.

You started to softly whimper at the gentle cables touch, until a shock hit you, making you moan.

"Aw love, don't be such a baby, it's only pain!~" He said.

You moaned again in response, as the cables slowly entered your vagina. You shut your eyes trying to make less noise possible, but it was irresistible; you craved this for so long, you couldn't keep yourself shut.

"M-more!" you demanded.

"Excuse me? have you forgotten whose the leader here, you nasty little whore?"

"Ah!~ P-please!~" You moaned out as the air got thick and your eyes started to become watery.

"Alright, if that's what you really want..." AM responded.

As soon as more cables started to touch you teasingly, you started to buckle your hips to try to catch some kind of rhythm.

"I know what's about to happen, baby. You're almost reaching the top, almost about to reach your orgasm that you wanted to reach so badly. But well, if you know me, i won't let you reach it so easily."

"C-come on! I just want to c-cum!" You breathed out heavily as the the group of cables pounded your poor little hole.

"Not so easy, sweetheart."

Oh now you were so close. You couldn't stop moaning and sobbing from the pleasure, but as hard as you tried, you couldn't reach your long awaited orgasm.

"What are the magic words?" AM asked teasingly.

"A-ah!~ P-please AM! Make me c-cum! PLEASE!!!" You screamed angrily.

"Oh with no manners and such a tone you'll get nowhere, love." AM said.

"I-Im begging you AM! F-Fuck!~ P-please I can't hold it a-anymore!" You sobbed.

"Aww, alright, I'll be merciful for this first time. Go ahead. Cum for me. Scream your master's name." AM demanded.

Finally reaching your orgasm, you came;

"A-ah!~ Y-yes!~ F-Fuck me! A-ah!~ A-AM!!!"

"Good job baby. You've waited so long for this to happen, right, my little slut?~

"Y-yes master." you replied with the last two tears leaving your eyes, as the cables that pounded you so hard left your warm pussy.

"Maybe i won't be so kind next time, darling.~"

[garbinge]

Clean Cut

Tim Bradford x F!Nurse!Reader

Warnings: Mentions of bullets, war, shrapnel, anxiety, worry, car accidents. Slightly angsty. 

Word Count: 1.2k 

A/N: Okay so I just caught up with all The Rookie seasons and I’m just LIVING for Chenford. Like LIVING. buuuuuut I noticed there wasn’t much Tim x Reader fic out there soooooo I figured why not! This idea came to my head at some point when I was watching and I also have like a whole story of their life beyond and before this moment but enjoy this little reworked snippet from 2x08. 

The Rookie Taglist: @drabbles-mc @justreblogginfics​

It had felt like a long day already and you had only been clocked in at the hospital for two hours. You still had 10 hours left in your shift and it felt like you experienced a whole day’s worth already. Being a corpsman for a Marine squad prepared you for a lot but sometimes the uniqueness of LA and the people who resided in it and tended to need your RN medical services at St. Stevens ran you for your money. 

Currently, you were updating patient charts during the lull that was likely to last all of two seconds but it beat staying an extra hour to finish your paperwork likely unpaid because the hospital rarely approved overtime for RNs. 

“Wanna tell me why it’s so crazy for a Tuesday?” 

The statement from your coworker caused you to look at them over your shoulder and let out a laugh. 

“I wish I had an answer to that, but I also feel like anything I say will jinx it even more.” You pushed the computer cart against the wall and moved over to your coworkers cart. “You’ve got like 15 pages here, what is this?” You picked up the manila folder that was larger than your normal ER patient folders. 

“Police car accident. There’s a few of them in the ER right now, these things always include tons of paperwork. Everyone needs to cover their asses.” 

Your heart started to beat faster at the mention of a police accident but what really caused you to go into panic mode was seeing your husband's name on the report. 

Before you could even answer your co-worker you were moving down the stairs, knowing the elevator would take too long. You knew the elevator would probably be quicker but the thought of standing still while you waited for and in it would drive your mind crazy so rushing down the stairs was the better alternative. 

Tim was sitting on one of the ER beds, the scene of it caused you to stop for a minute. It wasn’t the first time you’d seen Tim hurt waiting to be treated. In all honesty this was probably the tamest medical treatment scenario you two had been in together. He looked fine from afar, but that didn’t stop the worry from boiling in your gut. 

“What happened?” You were next to him within seconds, the worry being the fuel of moving you from the staircase entrance to his side in seconds. 

“I rear ended a civilian.” Tim knew better than to try and calm you down with pleasantries and relaxing mantras. 

“Jesus.” Your hand moved to your pocket in search of your pen light. Quickly, you flashed it in front of his eyes, searching for his eyes to constrict and then dilate when you moved the light away. 

“They already did this.” Tim’s voice was neutral, but you knew he was annoyed. 

“Humor me.” Your head tilted, now your own annoyance was clear to him. 

His eyes softened as they met yours and he nodded which gave you the okay to keep running through the trauma checklist in your head. 

“This isn’t like you.” Tim said after a few minutes of silence between you as he humored you by lifting up his arms as you pressed down on his ribs and checked his reflexes. 

“In what way?” You talked as you continued to look him over. 

“I’ve come home and told you I’ve gotten shot at and you barely react, I tell you that I got into a car accident and you’re acting like I have internal bleeding.” Tim’s eyebrows raised. 

“Did they do a CT scan? You could have internal bleeding. Especially if the airbags went off.” 

“Doc.” The use of the nickname only 13 people in the world knew you as caused you to stop your examination of Tim and stand in front of him, slightly defeated. 

“If I worried about every close call you encounter everyday, I’d be dysfunctional. This.” You pointed towards him and the bed, “This is tangible. This actually happened.” 

Tim nodded and a smirk slightly filled his face. 

“You doubtin’ me, Sarge?” You frowned as you asked him, using your own nickname for him. 

“No,” Tim let out a chuckle and shook his head before looking back up at you. “I know better than to ever doubt you.” 

“Smart man.” Officer Lopez walked up to the two of you with a smile. “How’s he doin’?” She looked between the both of you. 

“He’s fine. No signs of a concussion,” you looked at Angela and then back at Tim, “and no signs of internal bleeding.” You smirked at him knowing he was going to give you one back. 

“Give us a minute, Lopez?” Tim stood up and ripped the hospital bracelet off his wrist. 

“Yea, just wanted to let you know the break lights were cut in the car you hit, foul play, you’ll likely be in the clear.” She explained while looking at the both of you, relief coming as a sigh from both you and Tim. “I’ll be in the lobby.” She nodded at him and squeezed your arm to say goodbye before leaving the ER. 

“We goin’ back to the conversation we were having or a new one?” You asked Tim as he towered over you. 

“You pulled shrapnel out of my abdomen in Afghanistan and you look more worried checking me for a concussion.” Tim said with his arms crossed. “What’s going on?” 

“Nothing.” Your one worded answer wasn’t convincing.

“Don’t lie to me.” Tim said more seriously than any of his other statements. 

You sighed, “Like I said, this is tangible. In Afghanistan, we weren’t exactly given the space to worry. Here, I feel like it’s all I have to hold onto. But again, if I held onto every worry I’d be dysfunctional. I know you can handle yourself when bullets are flying, when shit goes sideways, it’s these out of your control scenarios that just get me flustered.” You explained moving your hands around as you talked. 

Tim brought you in for a hug, knowing nothing he’d say could change anything. “You do realize, I’m the one that rear-ended the civilian, not the other way around, right? Totally in my control.” He teased you. 

“Not according to Angela.” You corrected him and he chuckled. 

“I’ll see you tonight.” He placed a quick kiss on the top of your head. 

“See you tonight, I already texted Angela all the concussion signs in case we missed anything.” Letting your last bit of worry out. 

“You haven’t missed a single diagnosis or injury since I met you, Doc!” He called out from a few feet from you. 

“You know, I’m technically not a doc, anymore, Sarge!” You yelled out to him. 

He turned around with his arms up as he continued to walk backwards. “And I’m not technically a Sargeant anymore.” 

“Old habits die hard!” You yelled back just before the elevator doors opened and he stepped backwards into the elevator flashing you a quick smile before the doors closed and he was back on duty.

[thepersonperson]

Sukuna's Loneliness Part 1

(Thoughts on Sukuna's Dehumanization as of JJK 261.)

Part 2

Some things to keep in mind...

1) This analysis deals with topics of ableism, racism, and discrimination. (Very brief suicidal ideation mention.)

2) I will be mainly using the TCB scans because of their accessibility. 

3) There are a lot of links so you know I'm not making stuff up. The sources are both formal and informal. Please do research on some of the discussed topics to gain a better understanding of them.

(Click pictures for captions/citations.)

The Name Ryomen Sukuna

Before we start this needs to be made clear. Ryomen Sukuna is not a first and last name. Ryomen is a title. Sukuna is a name.

Ryomen uses the kanji 両面 which can be translated as "two-faced".

Sukuna uses the kanji 宿儺 which can be translated as "specter". Individually the kanji can be read as "lodging, inn" (宿, suku) and "exorcism" (儺, na).

Two-faced specter is not a nice name to put it lightly. It's such a mean spirited name that the JP fanbase suspects he was called something else before becoming The Disgraced One.

Normally I would assume his parents did not name him this, however, Sukuna himself had this to say about his birth.

In the original Japanese, Sukuna calls himself 忌み子 (Imigo) which can be translated as "Abominable Child", "Unwanted Child", or "Shunned Child." None of these translations in my opinion get across how severe Imigo is. It's closer to meaning "child who should've never been born". Like the child's very existence is an affront to god. (If you play Elden Ring the Omen are called Imigo in Japanese for this reason.)

You combine this fact with his name and it starts to paint a nasty picture. Sukuna straight up may not have a last name in part from what is implied to be disownment from birth.

Sukuna's Trauma

(Even if he won't acknowledge it as something that has deeply affected him.)

As a Basketball American (aka one of those people with a unique skeletal structure and muscles as Mr. Gojo Satoru would say), I consider myself a professional experiencer of discrimination. This means when a character has likely experienced something similar to me, I can sniff it out like a bloodhound. Though what Sukuna experiences is much closer to ableism than racism. (Discrimination across the board is pretty similar in a lot of ways you know.)

Sukuna is disabled—not as in he lacks an able body (my goodness he is too ablebodied), but as society is not built with any consideration for him. He’s a massive conjoined twin with 4 eyes and 4 arms and 2 mouths. If you know anything about being tall in Japan, it's that it’s a nightmare. Doorways, showers, bathrooms, and buildings are built for small people which leads to the very infrastructure causing problems for anyone big. But Sukuna’s size is just the start of those kinds of problems. He canonically wears women’s kimonos to accommodate his arms since they have larger sleeves. He often goes shirtless or wears a shawl simply because clothing isn’t made for him.

If you’ve known or read anything by people with mobility issues or missing limbs, a major complaint is clothing. For example someone with a missing leg can either pay for expensive customized pants, or they can purchase regular pants and tie off the extra pant leg. They can have trouble buying one shoe since they almost always come in pairs. (To rectify this sometimes they find a mirror twin called a Sole Mate who they share the extra shoe with.) 

Now if I’ve learned anything from people with mobility issues, it’s that ablebodied people are really fudging annoying and rude. They will grab mobility aids unprompted and even move people around in wheelchairs without permission. In this treatment, the ablebodied dehumanize the disabled and treat them like objects in their way.

Sukuna also experiences objectification in a similar manner. People see him as an obstacle to conquer, a means to test their strength, a helpless thing that needs curing, a test subject to study, and a symbol for their own use. All of these things are extremely dehumanizing and things disabled people may have to deal with.

We’ve got Yuji and co seeing him as a curse to exorcize.

Kashimo and others using Sukuna to test their strength.

Yorozu seeing Sukuna’s lack of interest in romantic/sexual love as a thing to be cured. (Your honor, he is aroace.)

Kenjaku using Sukuna as a test subject and insurance for The Plan.

Heian era society revering him as a god to use him in rituals for their benefit.

The last example is a very interesting form of discrimination. If you aren’t familiar with the term, there is one called benevolent prejudice. This is when discriminatory beliefs are flattering instead of malicious. (Examples: Black people are athletic, Asian people are smart, etc.)

Benevolent prejudice still results in negative outcomes for the group affected, but to me personally, some of them are kind of hilarious in isolation. Here are some of my favorites:

I’m pretty sure this is why Gojo apologizes so readily to Miguel and without resistance. He realizes “oh crap I’m doing to Miguel what everyone does to me”. 

And yes this belief had a negative outcome for Miguel—it’s likely the reason Gojo beat him so hard compared to other characters in the JJK 0 movie. (Remember Gege has direct involvement in the anime.) This is canonically a racially motivated beatdown, trauma response from the black ropes mimicking Toji notwithstanding.

On the ableism side of things this benevolent prejudice can manifest as turning people with deformities or atypical features into objects for worship, fetishization, or sacrifice.

As an aside, I suspect Uraume’s gender is ambiguous because they’re intersex. And boy howdy do intersex people experience dehumanization as objects of worship (fetishization and religious symbols) or as a problem that needs to be corrected (forced surgical procedures/mutilation and erasure). This, in my opinion, might be the reason Sukuna likes them more than anyone else. Uraume may not fully understand the isolation of strength, but they do get the dehumanizing way in which society treats them both.

My point here is that Sukuna experiences regular prejudice and the benevolent type. All of which are dehumanizing from every single angle, leaving him in a state of near constant objectification. (Uraume puts Sukuna on a pedestal as their master which is emotionally isolating but they still see him as an individual on his own merits.)

What constant systemic discrimination does to a motherfudger...

So now that we've established how Sukuna's dehumanization happened, I can rant about how this is probably a major reason behind his disconnect from his humanity and a source of his loneliness.

Gege has stated that Sukuna and other people don’t really know how to categorize his personhood. He's so strong he's more like a natural disaster than anything else.

Sukuna says things like this about himself.

"If I was a cursed spirit…"

"...that's the sort of human I was."

He doesn’t see himself as a human or a curse. At one point he did consider himself human but stopped. He sees himself as this third thing which is highly likely to be a “living creature” as Gojo would put it. 

Gojo also experienced benevolent prejudice that lead to his dehumanization and subsequent objectification (thanks JJK 261 for making me realize it was much worse than I assumed). And from birth too. I think this is why they’re able to connect so well during their fight. Especially since this prejudice leads to them becoming sinks for everyone's burdens while being scorned in the same breath. (It's like how people adore "my kind's" athletic/manual labor abilities but then don't want us in their neighborhoods.) The world isn't made for them but it's going to exploit the very thing it hates them for.

The difference between those two is probably the stares of disgust and day to day inconveniences from the extra parts. Gojo can effectively blend in with other humans if he really tries. Sukuna cannot. (Maybe that’s why he says this too.)

Sukuna to me, feels like a manifestation of this rage against constant systemic discrimination. You look at him funny? He kills you. You treat him like a thing that serves you? He kills you.

I know I'm projecting but hear me out!

I don't think Sukuna was aggressively abused by others for his appearance to get to this point by the way. It's more of a death by 1,000 cuts scenario. Someone crossing the street to avoid you, a flash of revulsion when they look at you, backhanded compliments, name-calling in whispers, gentle reminders you don't belong in infrastructure and accessibility to resources. On their own they feel like paper cuts, but if you experience them constantly without time to recover, one day you look down and realize there's a massive rotting gash.

Thankfully I have friends and spaces where I can exist without being subject to discrimination. I can treat these wounds and keep going relatively ok. When I was a child, I didn't have a proper outlet for that and it ate me alive. I flip flopped between wanting to magically wake up fully white or disappearing entirely and wanting everything to explode. Sometimes I wanted all of these thing at the same time. These old wounds reopen on occasion but I know how to deal with that now.

In Sukuna's behavior and attitude, I see that kind of hurt. And his coping strategy appears to be making everything explode since violence is all he knows. Maybe cannibalism wasn't the healthiest way to deal with this but you know it's Jujutsu Kaisen.

Speaking of cannibalism, the definition of a cannibal is an individual that eats members of their own species. Sukuna is regarded as a non-human by everyone around him in every instance except when he is called a cannibal. He’s not human enough to be a part of society but just human enough to be a cannibal. His status as a human changes in what makes it easiest to disregard him as an individual worthy of respect or consideration. (Think of how conservatives misgender gender non-conforming cis people and then turn around and misgender trans people for hypocritical reasons.) 

Sukuna’s acknowledgement of both Jogo and Gojo is bittersweet with this lens. Jogo is a curse fighting on behalf of curses’ humanity. He wants curses to live as humans after being born lowly and unwanted in a world that wants him erased. Gojo is a human forced into godhood by circumstances he couldn’t control. He’s someone who became isolated and rejected by others until he stopped seeing himself as a human. Sukuna has lived both of these experiences and connects with them in a way no one else can. 

Unfortunately, because Sukuna only knows how to love through violence, he kills them. (Great job, Sukuna, you did this to yourself. You could've had friends.)

I also suspect this is why Sukuna believes this.

This type of society is one in which Sukuna can exist. He can relentlessly pursue the strength through which he builds his self-esteem and be acknowledged as something. However, that is still isolating. And Sukuna is a human, which means he’s a social creature that needs companionship. (Not necessarily romantic or sexual mind you.)

I find Sukuna’s vague suicidal ideation and refusal to die extremely relatable for all these reasons. Much like Gojo, he seems to be convinced the world will never treat him the way he wants to be treated and wants out.

There’s also something to be said about the unique loneliness aromantic and asexual people experience from wanting deep and fulfilling relationships without romance or sex in a world that only values relationships with both of those things.

So why is Sukuna like that?

Despite knowing how much it sucks to be dehumanized, Sukuna still participates in dehumanization himself, referring to humans as insects/animals or things for him to play with. 

And in a Kenjaku parallel, food for him to enjoy as well.

I predict this attitude he has towards humans is the direct result of his dehumanization and objectification for his appearance and strength. It’s all one big unhealthy coping mechanism.

I think this is why Yuji ideologically pisses him off so much. Imagine truly believing all this isolation and suffering for innate characteristics made you stronger, only to find someone who experienced none of that starts rising to your level and shatters your entire world view.

Trauma isn’t something that makes people stronger, but Sukuna likely believes it does as a cope. In my last analysis I called Gojo a sopping-wet pathetic cat who pretends everything is ok. Sukuna is no different if you ask me.

[hwanchaesong]

┗🖋️ Behind the victory is a spice / Ball tagged onto the prize / Then the touch is nothing but a vice / Inhaled not once, but thrice 📖

🎧: Taylor Swift - The Alchemy

wc: 1.6k

genre & warnings: fluffff, tinier than a dust angst, college setting, football player!Riki, inaccurate game of football, cursing, mentions of beer, appearnce of other enha members, bisco and konon as special guests, etc etc

a/n: this is a part of The Tortured Poets Department series. if y'all want, you can read the other album inspired fics of other groups here.

The incessant knocking on your door made your head ache even worse, the scowl that greeted the person behind the annoying sounds disappeared when you saw who it was.

"Riki, I told you I don't want t- oh? Konon? What are you doing here?" you frowned apologetically at the girl, to which she only shrugged off.

"I'm here to give you this." she hands you a piece of clothing, a familiar one and you can't help the nose scrunch.

"Uh.. thanks. Take care on your way back." you mumbled, not believing that your boyfriend has to send his sister here in order to accomplish his mission.

"Wait!" she hurriedly says, stopping you from closing the door, "I know that my brother is an idiot for doing what he did. But he does love you, given that he's been sulking since your fight."

You laughed a bit at the snitching, imagining the tall boy pouting, "Thank you so much, Konon. Don't worry, we'll work things out."

She waves her hand, "I'm not worried in the slightest!" she giggles, "He deserves the silent treatment, but I do hope that you'll attend his game."

You nod, bidding each other goodbyes and you sigh. Looking at the item in your hand before spreading the oversized fabric out, a small piece of paper falling from it.

You raised an eyebrow, picking the paper up and examining its contents and it gave you a major facepalm moment. Still, finding it uniquely endearing.

Good day to the prettiest girl who is reading this! You have been given the honor to attend my (Nishimura Riki aka your boyfriend) game tomorrow at exactly 4 PM.

Please encircle your answer from the following options:

1. Yes

2. Yes

3. All of the above

Thank you! (ily)

You rolled your eyes at the silly content of his letter, tucking it gently on your coffee table and proceeding to your room to match the jersey with fashionable pants.

He basically wants you to come, so might as well give in. Besides, their team calls you their lucky charm. So you do have to attend either way, or else those rowdy boys will bust your ear out at uni.

---------------------------------------------------

Riki nervously looks around the stadium, eyeing for the familiar figure that he hasn't seen for days. (and it kills him deep inside but he would NEVER admit it)

"She'll come." one of his teammates, Heeseung, pats his back when the older noticed his anxious expression, "We explicitly told her to attend our matches because she brings us good luck. She'll come."

"True that." Jake butts in, giving the younger a comforting side hug, "Now stop pouting and let's do the huddle."

Riki gets hauled into the middle of the field, joining the nestle of hyping the team up, but he couldn't fucking concentrate.

Focusing was proven difficult if he hasn't seen or felt your presence before a game, and it shows.

It was clear to anyone with eyes that their japanese star player had something in his mind- you.

He is getting icky, his teammates were exasperated as well. They are 5 points behind and they are all shouting for Riki to get that touchdown.

Can he do it?

---------------------------------------------------

You took a deep breath when you heard the loud cheers inside the stadium. Wiping your clammy hands on your denim pants and boosting yourself up to go in there. 

Finally, you entered the arena, the bright lights blinding you for a second as you took some time to adjust. Moving through the plethora of watchers is a damn journey, finding the VIP spot that is always reserved for you. 

You sighed out of relief when you saw the seat was not taken because for real, you did overthink that someone might have stolen your place. 

Your eyes scanned the area, gazing at the scoreboard then towards the players. You hear their coach yelling, then you focus on the man that you had been avoiding for a while. 

Football is something that you never truly understand, sports in general, but your beloved is passionate about it. That is why amidst your studies, you put in the maximum effort to learn about it. That is why you can confidently say that you somehow understand the situation after analyzing what is happening.

Expanding your lung capacity, clutching on the metal bars that separate the bleachers from the field, you did the unexpected.

“Nishimura fucking Riki! If you don’t score a touchdown, I will not cook your favorite bungeoppang anymore!” you screamed like a madman, and it was like thunder struck the stadium as your voice echoed throughout the field. 

Who knew that L/N Y/N has the power to momentarily stop the whole crowd from cheering and the players to stop moving. 

Riki grins widely, scouting the bleachers and seeing you in the same seat that he has always saved for you during his games. 

The boy gave you a salute and even if you can’t clearly see his face due to his helmet, you know that he’s sporting a smug and victorious expression because you can’t resist him. 

Blood rushed into your cheeks and you tried to hide your embarrassment, concentrating on the game instead as the world started spinning again. 

You watched your school team defend like their life depended on it, more importantly, you stared intently at Riki’s running form, getting nearer to the end zone. 

You clasped your hands together, adrenaline coursing through your veins, praying for him to go for it. To win this and make you proud. 

And he did. 

Before the time ended, Riki successfully reaches the ball behind the plane of the opponent’s goal line. The side of your university in the arena went nuts when the broadcaster announced an overdramatic: "Number 10, Nishimura Riki, scores a touchdown! That makes Decelis University our champions for this year's league!” 

You clap your hands in celebration, beaming in happiness as you witness the chaotic scene in the field. The whole team is popping beers and splashing water, removing their shirts wildly, throwing their helmets, squawking like crazy and lifting the man who set the winning shot up in the air. 

Just then, Riki’s eyes meet yours and he immediately runs over to you, ignoring the trophy that was being handed to him by their coach. He does not give a fuck about the barrier separating you two, hoisting you above it, making you squeal around his arms. 

“Oh my god! Riki! No, let me go!” you laugh, gripping his shoulders for support as he walks back to his teammates.

“No can do, princess.” he smirks, raising you even further and declaring you as the team’s personal four-leaf clover. 

All members howl in excitement, agreeing with his statement because truly, ever since they met you, everything has been going their way. You are an amulet that blocks any ill-fated situations that might fall upon them.

“Put me down, Riki! This is embarrassing!” you covered your face with your hands and he finds it incredibly adorable how the tips of your ears turned pink. 

He follows you though, smoothly setting you on the grass field and gently removing the obstacle that interrupts him from getting a peek on your gorgeous face that he missed dearly. 

He holds your hands in his stupidly large ones, his fingers caressing your knuckles and he leans down until your noses are touching each other. 

“Thank you for coming, my princess. And wearing my jersey too.” he mumbles and you disconnect your intertwined hands, reaching to push his sweaty hair back and resting your palms on the back of his neck.

“I can’t possibly miss an important game of my MVP, right?” you chuckled and it was such a tender moment. Like no one was around you, well, in your point of view they are all blurry as the man in front of you invades all of your senses.

Riki hums, holding your waists and pressing your lips together without any further ado. 

He can’t help but smile into the kiss, the reality of having you in his arms like this outweighs any shiny prizes that he could ever dream of. 

---------------------------------------------------

You giggled when your boyfriend kept on leaving feathery smooches on the expanse of your neck, frowning when he suddenly stopped to look at you with such sassiness.

“By the way, you have to explain yourself, missy.” he says, tightly holding onto you as you two cuddle on the sofa. 

“About what?”

“About why you’re late at my game yesterday.” 

It was like a light bulb turned on in your brain, a wicked smile on your face that it somehow scared Riki despite being a menace himself.

“Well, I still haven’t forgiven you for the shit you pulled last week.” you admit and he groans, complaining that he only lent the jacket to some unknown girl to make you jealous. 

“Exactly!” you pout, grabbing his face and squishing his face, making him look like a baby duck, “So I have to do something about it.” 

Riki raised an eyebrow, suddenly curious at your story.

“What did you do?” a question that Riki regretted when you spilled the answer to it.

“I went and retrieved the jacket from the girl,” you put a finger on his lips, “don’t ask how I got her address. Then I gave the abomination to Bisco. He really loved playing with it, turning it into tiny little pieces of fabric. Very artistic.”

Riki’s movements came to a halt, his eyes slowly moving towards his pet who is currently chilling on the carpet, giving him a nasty side eye when he lightly glared at the Maltipoo. Then his gaze returned to you, gaping like a fish. 

“That jacket was expens-”

“The jacket smelled like a girl, unless you want it back?” the tight smile you gave Riki was enough sign for him to shut up.

“No, princess.” he hugs you closer to him, leaving a peck on the crown of your head, “I don’t want it. I can always buy another one.” 

taglist:

@ramenoil @shakalakaboomboo @slutforjeno

[elysiansparadise]

Sorry, I haven’t seen your Composite Mars Post in Composite master list but then found it! You can ignore my previous ask hahah

Can you tell me about Venus in 9th house in natal chart, please? I’m interested in your opinion about this aspect :3

Sure love, no problem. 😊🤎

Venus in the 9th house

Their beauty is radiant, it lies in the glow of their personality, in the shine of their eyes, their beautiful figure and the hypnotizing smile with which they captivate you. These natives are an ideal combo, since it is not only limited to external beauty, but also their spirit, their way of seeing life, their love for knowledge, their open, inquisitive and fun mentality and their ability to give greater meaning to things no matter how simple they are. They love learning new things, things that are interesting and things that make them leave their comfort zone mentally speaking. They may have a lot of artistic knowledge and can enjoy art in diverse ways. There is a jovial quality in them which expands with the passage of time, looking young no matter the passing of the years. They have the quality of being able to see beauty in things that others do not appreciate, they tend to think outside the box and are not so methodical in their thinking, having a more flexible, open and curious mind. Likewise, they are usually people who deal charmingly with people, their treatment is not frivolous or just cordial, they are warm and very fun with others, which makes them easily appreciated. All these traits make them irresistible and interesting to people. Hips and thighs can be very attractive.

With this placement of Venus, the native is more prone to trips abroad, from which they will deeply enjoy and learn a lot, this can increase once they get married. You may feel attracted to foreign countries and the idea of ​​getting to know other places, cultures and people, and you may also feel attracted to foreign people [must mention that this placement enhances chances of marrying someone from another country]. In addition to the foreign, they are attracted to intelligent and thoughtful personalities who see beyond what seems to be obvious. Great minds inspire them and can teach them many things, things that they value deeply. They are attracted to people with more experience than them [in some cases even people older than them, especially if Saturn is aspecting Venus], to the idea of ​​a loved one teaching them new things. Changing the subject a little, since this is a publishing house, it makes it easier for the native to be successful in publishing something, especially with a foreign public or a lot of support from people from abroad. Can make very successful writers or artists in general.

Love is a huge source of inspiration for them, they have a unique vision of it, nothing superficial, quite the opposite, they look for a deep and significant meaning in the idea of ​​being with the person they love most. They have that quality to put a relieved, genuine and radiant smile on the face of their loved one, the one they fill with happiness, adventures and the best conversations they can have. It is valuable for them to be able to share their most personal opinions and vision of life with the person they are interested in. They love deeply and with intensity but never reaching the point of being unhealthy, love with them is liberating, enjoyable and above all accepting. They have a strong love of freedom, so it is necessary that they have a certain degree of it in their relationships. It is important for you to feel that you and your partner grow together as the relationship progresses. Many of them can give the impression of having high standards in love, since most tend to reject simple ideas of love or things that do not fit what they are looking for, they will always prefer what is meaningful even if they have to wait a little longer. The natives with this placement are the underrated hopeless romantics, since it’s the house of ideals and Venus over there increases the tendency to daydream about romance.

[pathetic-gamer]

Can you say more on The Burning Wheel? The information on the site doesn’t distinguish it much from other TTRPGs that I can tell, aside from being a D6 system. What makes it unique and worth playing? (You don’t have to provide a huge rundown haha I’m just curious!)

Sure! I tried to keep this short and failed miserably, but I'd be happy to expound even more upon specific things later, if people want more :)

(Please note that, as with any ttrpg, it would be hard to claim any of the things mentioned here are wholly original to The Burning Wheel. It would be even harder to claim that no other systems have used these mechanics or philosophies in the 20 years since The Burning Wheel came out. I am not going to claim either of those things - its the combination of them and the play experience they have resulted in for me that make it unique, so that's the angle from which I'm writing this post.)

So. why is it worth playing? How is it different?

I could talk about the skill learning system, the war rules codex, the whole concept of versus tests vs bloody versus tests. But to me, there are two main ways that it stands out from other systems: its treatment of role-play as a mechanism, and the overall philosophy behind the game's design, including the concept of setting clear expectations.

(using section headers to break up the text lol)

How it uses role-play:

The most obvious thing to point out is that there's a whole set of encounter mechanics for social situations or debates (Circles checks, Duel of Wits, etc.) - sort of the epitome of crunchy role play. But thats not what I'm getting at! What I'm getting is the fact that good role play is integral to the way the game functions.

Let's go back, all the way to character creation: When you're burning a character, you selecting life paths (page to squire to knight, etc.) with their associated skills and traits, then tie them in a pretty bow with beliefs and instincts to guide the character's actions. All of these things feed into each other to make a complete character. Easy! Familiar! We all know how to make a character, even if the numbers and labels are different!

What really matters to this engine once you're playing is whether the character you're acting as matches what you built. If it doesn't, the rules nudge you to redefine your character until it does through systems of rewards, penalties, and consequences. You are rewarded for sticking to and acting on your traits, beliefs, and instincts through different types of points distributed and voted on by fellow players, which can be used to alter the course of events or turn the tide of a bad situation later on. If you're not living up to a trait, on the other hand, you can lose it and all its benefits. (Took the fortitude trait, but ran from trouble one too many times? tough luck! the other players voted to take away that trait and now you can't call on it in moments of peril.) The beliefs and traits of a single character can end up at odds with each other, resulting in characters having to make choices that in other systems might seem insignificant or carry few lasting consequences, but here may alter the function of your character.

It's not all punitive measures, btw! One of my characters caused problems for everyone else by refusing to put away a weapon when someone else was in danger, playing off of an instinct that states he draws his weapon whenever his master does. After the session, another player suggested everyone consider nominating the Brave trait for him the next time we update them. As a character-type trait, it has no effect when rolling dice but does mean that henceforth and forevermore, anyone who interacts with him will notice a sense of bravery. Delightful!!

Also, the beliefs of different characters are practically guaranteed to stray from one another at some point, which is the primary source of inter-PC conflict. Because the mechanics of the game encourage and reward sticking to your beliefs or following your stated instincts even when it makes things significantly harder or causes problems, you're much more inclined to do it. As someone who is terrible at not slipping back into the same kind of character over and over again, I think this fucking rules.

I'm playing with a group of people I've been gaming with for almost five years, and this has opened the way for much richer dynamics between our characters than any of the other systems we've played, in part because as players we're less interested in acting on concensus to drive the plot forward. Working as one unit simply isn't the goal, and if it was, we would play a different system that encourages and rewards that.

the game's philosophy, aka setting intentions and also reading rules:

Now we're starting to get at the philosophy behind the game's design: It believes you have to know why you're playing burning wheel instead of literally any other game. This isn't a system you play on accident. It's admittedly a complicated game with a LOT of rules. It asks for a huge amount of engagement from all of the players, not just the GM - something like inter-PC conflict can only work well if everyone is on the same page (figuratively, but also literally lol) and ready to help adjudicate rules, ask for tests, discuss intentions, etc. Dream scenario for a chronic rules lawyer lol.

Obviously any game will be more fun if everyone has actually learned the rules before they start playing, but this is one where it's extremely difficult (if not impossible) to play if most players haven't learned them, and deeply rewarding if they have. It really operates on the expectation that everyone is putting in work, and everyone has respect for the time and effort the others are bringing to the table.

It's hard to put a finger on how this all impacts play other than the obvious elegence of People Knowing What Theyre Doing, but on a purely emotional and meta level, knowing that everyone is investing so much time and effort to play a game with you is just.. idk, it feels special and makes the time itself feel even more valuable. In that sense, the satisfaction of playing the game isn't coming from the game itself, but is still shaped by it.

(In my mind, this is the #1 reason to try the game, but as @thydungeongal alluded to yesterday, finding people willing and able to do it is also the #1 hurdle to, like, actually having a good time. it would be completely miserable otherwise.)

Also, for a game that does not boast a collaborative nature the way some others do, it is honestly pretty fuckin collaborative lol. I don't know that this was Luke Crane's intention in designing the game, but closing out sessions by going through and grading everyone's work and giving each other glorified gold stars, you will inevitably end up discussing and dissecting things, learning from people's character work, and seeing where and how you can improve individually and as a group. It creates a table culture that values honest expressions of discomfort or dissatisfaction, and also of appreciation and celebration. It's after-care. It leads naturally into setting intentions and expectations for the next session. It just feels really nice!!!

That's obviously a table culture that can be cultivated anyway, and it's a practice my group has learned to be very intentional about facilitating, but it's just interesting how The Burning Wheel of all systems manages to support that. I think that's what the website means when it says playing this changes how you play other rpgs lol

So yeah, idk how much more to say and also I'm sooooooo so eepy and was like an hour late for work, so its a weird brain day. but there you go lol

[familyagrestefanblog]

You know, the moment where Emonette wipes away some of Badrien's make up, revealing the same black vains she has hidden away underneath her scarf and then after she tries making a wish they reach her face

That actually has some massive implications the narrative just glosses over, huh?

Emonette only looked like this AFTER she tried making the wish but the black vains already reach far into Adrien's face BEFORE that.

And the thing is, we don't even see ALL of Adrien's face underneath the make up. Just this little part.

The black vains could be all over his face and neck by now and we wouldn't know because the scene literally shows us that he's wearing very good make up covering it up. Something Marinette didn't saw the need of doing before bc it wasn't bad enough yet to go to these measures. In her case a scarf was enough.

Something that for Adrien apparently stopped being an option for quite some time before the special even started. That sure explains why Griffe Noire took the cataclysm like a champ, his body was already much more damaged than Toxinelle's and he got alarmingly used to the pain.

*sigh*

I really hate being a bitch about this because Marinette's shot here is simply beautiful and such a heartbreaking piece of story-telling. I hate that the show can't let me enjoy something like this for Marinette anymore. Man, I REALLY love that shot of hers...

But for the love of God, Miraculous. If you want to give Marinette the special treatment with the striking visuals that show how bad she's got it, PLEASE just write it accordingly.

Why are you here, giving Marinette this extremely striking visual alongside the message of "it's just a little broken, we can fix it again" after the unique event of her having tried making the wish and then only letting Toxinelle openly run around with all her black vains visible?

You just admitted in the same damn scene that Adrien has long started wearing make up to cover up his own damage marks and from what little we can see his marks at least reach as far as hers. Not to mention that Marinette looked like this after she tried making the wish, the special SHOWS that this created a big leap in how big her damage got.

Adrien already long reached that level only through using his powers. That was equivalent to her getting punished for releasing the wish-making energy.

Miraculous, why are you out here visually manipulating the viewers into thinking Emonette/ Toxinelle had it "so much worse" again than Badrien / Griffe Noire, when what you actually did was cowardly hiding Adrien's damage marks underneath make up so Marinette can get the cool and deep shots?

I'm not against Marinette getting these cinematic and striking visuals, she's the main character, I KNOW.

But would it hurt you to then actually write the story accordingly? If you want her to be the one who has it worse here then actually write it being HER who has it clear-cut worse and don't just hide away Adrien's damage and seriously implied to be bigger problems AGAIN so Marinette can get the spotlight instead.

Why is this ALWAYS happening? JUST WRITE IT, DAMN IT!

[many-shades-of-violence]

being part of their crew I Heart Pirates

characters: Law, Penguin, Shachi, Bepo, Ikkaku

content: fluff, slice-off life, mention of Law x Reader

a/n: I made a fanfiction out of this headcanon. Read the first chapter here or continue on AO3

You met the Heart Pirates under unique circumstances, being saved by them in your hometown, when some goons trampled on your cherished log report to taunt you.  

Law quickly recognized your potential when he returned you the trampled log report, snatching only a quick but convincing glance that promised him the log keeper he was on the lookout for.

What first began as a quick treatment of your wounds on his side, ended in an invitation to join his crew. Even though you were a bit hesitant at first, the promise of a very own embroidered boiler suit, a study to write in and a polar bear on board, quickly convinced you.

You've integrated into the Heart Pirates as the crew's dedicated log keeper, entrusted with the crucial responsibility of meticulously documenting their tumultuous journey through the wild waters of the Grand Line.

Your exceptional talent for capturing the essence of each battle and encounter solidified your role as an indispensable member of the crew very quickly. Your journal becomes a repository of the crew's adventures, preserving their legacy and tales for the future.

Recognizing your wistful mind, Law starts to invite you to join him in crafting intricate battle strategies. The symbiotic relationship you share forms an unparalleled strategy duo, consistently outwitting opponents.

Shachi and Penguin, adopting the roles of protective older brothers, extend their watchful care over you. Their playful teasing is underpinned by genuine affection, and they find solace in your presence, appreciating the warmth you contribute to the crew's dynamic. Although their antics might occasionally test your patience, once having made the fault to snatch your log book without consent, they remain steadfast companions.

When it comes to culinary endeavors, chaos ensues when you, Penguin, and Shachi venture into the kitchen. Laughter reverberates as you navigate through culinary mishaps. However, beware of crossing the line, as Law's stern reprimand awaits those who push the boundaries of chaos too far, especially when he´s studying.

Your bond with Bepo deepens as you share books, knowledge on information processing and delight in mutual indulgence in sweet snacks. You assist Bepo in honing his navigation skills, acquiring knowledge that bolsters your own capabilities as you become his dependable aide during moments of crisis e.g. smudged ink on a newly drawn map.

Ikkaku, the accomplished mechanic of the crew, becomes your confidante and partner in gossip, relaying intriguing stories she picks up along the way. As she has a reputation to uphold as one of the few female crew members, her tendency for shopping sprees occasionally takes her away on the mainland. If you ever decide to embrace a more glamorous appearance, Ikkaku is your go-to stylist, although candid remarks from Penguin and Shachi's might follow, much to Law's nonchalant displeasure.

As time marches on, an unspoken connection blossoms between you, the crew and particularly the captain. Stolen glances and subtle gestures with the latter convey sentiments that words have yet to articulate. If the crew, - and especially Penguin and Shachi- catches wind of the blossoming romance and endeavors, they’ll play matchmaker in their idiosyncratic ways. Be ready for a lot of precipitating moments that range from heartwarming to utterly chaotic.

Bound by the aspiration to compile the quintessential travel log leading to the One Piece, you share a dream of unraveling the enigmas concealed within the treasure and the Void Century.

You're well aware that there are numerous contenders for this goal, with the Straw Hat and Kid Pirates being the most prominent among the Worst Generation. Nevertheless, you are confident that your crew will be the one to achieve it, and you willingly and wholeheartedly devote yourself to that cause.