#century of progress exhibition | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

insane-brit · 1 year

Text

Royalty (Ch. 3)

Muzan Kibutsuji x Soulamte!Fem!Reader

Chapter Links: Prologue, Chapter one, Chapter two, Chapter three

Next scheduled Royalty update (Ch 4.): July 30th, 2023.

Tags/Warnings: Enemies to lovers, semi slow burn, dark story/themes, GRAPHIC DEPICTIONS OF VIOLENCE (neck snapping, spinal shock), prostitution, attempted coercion, hatred, mentions of IRL Japanese history, slight misogyny, panic attack, blood.

A/N: It's finally here!!! Yay! Thank you all for being patient with me as these last few weeks have been hectic. I just got back from a convention and classes are a lot. I'm also going back through and adding (F/N) to the first two chapters with reader in it since I didn't do that before (I like to use it sparingly). So, be on the lookout for those edits.

I do want to say that I have a schedule planned for this series. Due to my classes and the upcoming semester I will update Royalty every other week to give me time to write properly. Other works such as requests will be filled/posted as they are completed.

Therefore, the next update (Ch. 4) will be on July 30th, 2023!

MINORS DO NOT INTERACT

Word Count: 2.6K

The stench of rot permeated through the orifices of every human that he encountered. Death walked hand in hand with them as they decayed with each passing minute. Demons were much the same but dulled. Their aging halted and cells regenerated in a never-ending cycle until their head was severed or body burned. Flaws in his creations and himself.

Muzan’s carefully crafted work, hand-picked from the hundreds and thousands of demons over the ages, the Upper and Lower moons had defects in their own ways. Dismantling the Lower ranks proved to ease the spreading desperation in his subconscious. They were worthless beings. Unfit for their stations and yet the Upper ranks manifested to be just as disappointing as the rest. Failing for centuries at annihilating the family bound to him by blood and unearthing the blossom that would grant him the ability to conquer the sun. The amaryllis.

The only reason they proved to be of use was they kept the Kisatsutai on their toes. Terminating the lives of their most powerful and stripping them of their morality. Despite him wanting to rip the ranks to shreds and gnash his teeth on their bones, they were his strongest. He would let them carry on with their lives if they served and attested themselves to be worthy of the position so graciously bestowed upon them.

Walking the various winding concrete of Yoshiwara was not Muzan’s ideal pastime. Though it was vital to remind his Jūnikizuki where they stood and to oversee the progress, they had made both for themselves and his sake. Situating himself near a wall, his eyes observed the lowly human creatures. Their affairs exhibited in the confines of the residence they were assigned to and sought out. Women and men alike with their sultry gazes swept across the bodies that passed them. Muzan was no exception. The impure burn of their eyes had him clenching his jaw. It was revolting and he would rather them be looking upon him in other ways. They were ignorant, but one day they would understand. If they were capable of such a feat. A soft gasp from behind him had him tense.

“Aren’t you pretty?” A woman brushed the side of his arm before stopping in front of him. A smirk curled on her face as she tilted her head. Eye’s tracing over his features before going lower.

“I know just the woman who may interest you,” her nail tapped her lower lip. “And she may be interested in return.”

Muzan glared at her, expression stoic and lips in a tight line. “No, thank you.”

She pouted, sticking her bottom lip out in a display that left him with a foul taste in his mouth. “Oh, come on. I promise we’re not that bad, and besides,” she drawled, smoothing out the front of her layered kimono. “I can show you a good time if the others don’t meet your expecta-.”

Her skull cracked against the building. Stone dug into her scalp as little pieces opened the skin, blood streamed from the wound. A choked sound bubbled up from her throat as Muzan tightened his grip.

His face was mere inches from hers. “Courtesans just don’t know when to quit.” Her throat bobbed as she clawed at his wrist. Pupils blown and eyes swelled, she sounded pitiable. “Know your place.”

His expression was callous. Complete disregard for the woman’s life. In one swift motion, her vertebrae splintered underneath the skin. The crack reverberated under his fingers as she paled. Sweat beaded near her hairline and her pulse dropped. The thrum lagged in intensity compared to moments ago. Practically tossing her against the wall, he stared down at the nearly unconscious body. The rise and fall of her chest ceased at the loss of function and urine trailed from under the slightly hoisted garments.

Muzan stepped away from the body. A look of repugnance danced in his eyes as his shoes clicked against the alley. The sheer commotion of the streets and people engrossed in their activities served to cover the deed. No eyes to behold the barbaric and heinous force that now lay with the crumpled cadaver. Not that it made any difference to him if someone bore witness or not. The action wouldn’t beget any kind of repercussion. He had killed thousands and the sole individual who could strike him down for his immorality was long gone.

Rounding the corner of the brothel yielded another side road. Livelier than the alleyway, but not as bustling as the main street. Muzan’s gaze swept over the scene. The mix of Chouchin and modern cast bronze lanterns emitted a golden tint. Shadowing the timber structures inlaid with ornate decor and carefully crafted sliding doors. In the time since his birth in the Heian Era, Muzan had seen the rise and fall of many and their attempts at jurisdiction. From the brutal Onin War between the Daimyō and Ashikaga shogunate to the collapse of the Tokugawa shôgun. Modernizing and progressing the country into the complex order it is today.

He wouldn't normally immerse himself in the trivial matters of the government, especially with them being substandard compared to himself, however, it was vital to his continuity. Being knowledgeable in the ever-changing systems, inventions, and styles granted him more expertise in the art of blending in. Offsetting the swordsmen intent on his demise for over a thousand years.

Observing the bleary silhouettes of people through the translucent paper on the shoji windows, he tipped the edge of his white fedora to the side. Eyeing the Kyogoku House, where Upper moon six, Gyutaro, resided. Daki may be the outward appearance and has some finesse in fighting, but that is all she’ll ever amount to. A mere child whose sole purpose is to keep her brother under control. A pitiful feat that she thinks her lord cares for and believes in her. On her knees and practically drooling over his approval. It's pathetic.

Narrowing his eyes, Muzan strode down the street. He had more pivotal things to execute rather than linger in these vulgar places. A puddle splashed as his shoe struck it. The ripples reflected molten gold from the lanterns. He looked down at the undulating liquid before his eyes sharpened. The tightness in his wrist and the scintillating flicker of the cursed filament did not go unnoticed. Muzan felt the cavity of choler dig itself further as eyes burrowed into his stature. Halting his movements, he could feel the emotions coming off the person like waves. Kismet had its way of interfering with his aspirations as of late, and it appears no matter how hard he disregarded the incident many nights ago, resilience persevered. Nails sharpening, he turned and eyed the human ogling at him.

Her lips were slightly parted and her eyes wide. Skin pale as if she had seen a ghost. His gaze dragged over her body, and he glowered in realization. The all-too-familiar black uniform with white accents stood out like a sore thumb. The haori that encapsulated the kanji on the back of the uniform was a mix of snow and sable. Swirls of what looked to be smoke and other intricate designs littered the bottom, but Muzan didn’t put much care into what the woman was wearing. His sole focus was on what she was. A Sureiyā. A Hashira.

If there were any gods or Buddha in his thousand years of existence, they were surely trying his patience.

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

(F/N) felt like her blood had been turned to ice. The glassy veins froze her in place as she owlishly stared into the eyes of her supposed soulmate. Hearing shot, ringing reverberated in her ears and the thronging behind her sounded muffled. As if she had been pulled into the unforgiving deep as her lungs screamed and begged for an end.

He did not move, and from where she stood, she could not discern an emotion on his face. It was phlegmatic. Unwavering, constant. It unnerved (F/N) as her feelings swirled and compacted into what felt like a ticking bomb. Fury, horror, uncertainty…. contentment? It was all too much and didn't do anything to ease her palpitating heart. Eyes darted down to the thread, soaking up every single fiber and shine it emitted as she stalked its trail. It ended at his alabaster skin. Gouging itself into the flesh, and if his eyes weren't enough evidence, that's when she noticed his nails. They tapered into an acute point where deep indigo melted into pale blue.

Breathing ragged, she took a few shaky steps back. Gaze never leaving him. (F/N) was jolted out of her stupor as a body rammed into her hard. The force sent them both tumbling to the ground. Her head and elbow cracked against the pavement. Grit dug into her flesh and tore it open as her vision doubled. Groaning softly, (F/N) brought her other hand up to cradle her head. A weight was pressed onto her torso, and it felt suffocating as it moved around. Muffled voices resonated around her, and as her vision cleared, she observed the multitude of bodies surveying the scene. Beady eyes pierced her soul, and some looked on with pity. Others glared and whispered in hushed voices like secrets carried by the wind, and she felt her face flush in embarrassment.

“What the hell is wrong with you?” A voice hissed and handfuls of her uniform were jerked forward. A man hovered over her dazed form and shook her harshly. “How dare you wench! Where is your procurer? You should be punished for your insolence.”

(F/N) clenched her teeth and slammed her fist into his chest, effectively shoving him off her. Blood oozed from her elbow and stained his hakama as he fell into the surrounding crowd. Women shrieked and men howled with laughter at the display. She staggered to her feet, clutching the laceration, and glared at the man seething on the ground.

“Nothing is wrong with me.” she spat at him. Her nerves were firing. The adrenaline from the collision, that she laid eyes on the progenitor, and that he was her soulmate no less had her on the verge of a breakdown. Something that she had not felt in years. The feeling of all these emotions flowing had her choking back the ball that had formed in her throat. “Watch where you're going next time.” She hissed. (F/N) knew it was her fault but at that moment she could care less. Her eyes darted back towards the side street. People’s bodies presented to be an obstacle as she tilted her head frantically to inspect the spot where he once stood.

There was nothing. No trace that he was there and that only served to make her panic more. The only verification that his presence remained was the line connecting the two of them. It was slack, but barely compared to the tautness of it mere moments ago. Pivoting around she shoved people out of her way as she bolted down the road. The man on the ground cursed her form which was swallowed by the sea of people.

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

(F/N)’s back pressed against the cool bark of a maple. She clutched the front of her uniform as choked sounds escaped her cracked lips. Her vision warped from the tears she held back; her hands shook with force and her feet tingled.

She didn’t know how far she had run from the district, but she had to get out. She ran until she couldn’t anymore and collapsed in the emerald grass and darkened trees. The thought of those eyes drilling into hers and the shifting cataclysmic ambiance that surrounded his physique had her struggling to breathe. The air came in short bursts as her chest tightened.

It was hard.

Breathing was hard.

The only relief she felt was the sight of the thread loose and gathered in ringlets on the swaying grass. He hadn’t followed her. She was out of sight of anything besides the surrounding fauna which she no doubt scared away with the distressed sounds pouring from her mouth.

Thoughts raced from Kibutsuji to her mission.

Her failed mission.

Grabbing the nearest rock, (F/N) screamed in rage and brought it down onto the blood-red tie. Beating it repeatedly into the ground. Each hit sent a shock wave of what felt like needles through her arm as a warning. Yet, it stayed constant. No fraying, no cut, no snapping. It remained in perfect condition, and she swore it glowed brighter, mocking her. Grinding her teeth together she continued to strike it until the palms of her hands bled from the grip she had on the stone.

Panting from the energy exerted, she chucked the rock at the nearest tree and watched it break into pieces and dust. Her nails dug into her slick palm as she sat there hunched over on her knees.

The thought of the pillars and her Master’s crestfallen, disgusted faces haunted her mind. If they were to see her in this state, abandoning a mission, and fleeing from their sworn enemy when she had every opportunity to launch an assault on him, well, she could only imagine the contempt that would stem from their hearts. (F/N) imagined Master Kagaya exiling her for breaking the oath she swore her life to the moment she passed Final Selection.

“I swear to battle valiantly, not show hesitation, doubt, or cowardice in the face of danger, and place the needs of the Kisatsutai before my own.”

She placed a quivering palm over her mouth as nausea threatened to overtake her. Everything she worked towards, dedicated her life to, everything, destroyed in minutes. Obliterated by her selfishness and pusillanimity. She was no valiant swordsman. The prowess she claimed to have died the moment realization sunk in. Snuffed like a flame.

A soft flutter and pitter-patter of feet landed near her as she held back the urge to purge the contents of her stomach. The crunching of leaves and soft cooing drew closer until she had no choice but to look up. Seiichi, her Kasugai crow cocked his head and ruffled his feathers at her. A small talisman was wrapped around his neck with string, engraved with designs and different Kanji. An item her grandfather gave to her before he passed that she then gave to her crow.

“Tengen, Tanjiro, Zenitsu, and Inosuke are almost to Yoshiwara. You must meet them!” he cawed and made her flinch from the sudden loud noise.

“No. No Seiichi,” she took in a shaky breath before reaching out and picking him up. “I can’t. Not now.”

Setting the crow on her lap, she scratched the top of his head. Effectively making him quiet down and simultaneously began to clear the haze of panic that had been clouding her mind for hours.

“Please, don’t go to the Master. Not yet. Just stay with me for a while.” she whispered and hung her head low, hair falling in front of her face.

Seiichi didn’t make a sound. Nor did he move from his position on her lap. Indicating that he heard her plea and complied with her wish, going against his orders.

The sky steadily grew a lighter shade. A blue hue cast over the scenery before her and a few birds chirped. Beads of dew rolled off blades of grass and she shivered from the chill breeze that blew through the canopy of trees. Her body felt heavy and the wound on her elbow had dried. Pulling the skin when she would bend her arm. (F/N) observed her appearance, her haori was dirty and had a few rips in it from her fall, but for the most part, she appeared to be fine.

The sound of something being sat down had her and Seiichi whipping their heads up to look for the source. The hair on her nape prickled and she sucked in a breath. Hand reaching for her blade. The sun had not come up yet. Any demon still had the chance to strike if they so desired.

“Oh, are you alright dear?”

Taglist: @shellseys @athalahild @stxrrielle @lulu-83 @nianre @sincerely-aaronette @kathleen7i @woozzz

247 notes · View notes

warping-realities · 1 year

Text

Dalton Academy - Hedonistic Behavior

That had been a strange day for Jaime.

Things looked messed up. He knew he still hadn't made friends at school but at the same time there was that feeling that it shouldn't be like this, that something was wrong. He passed a few people in the hall that he could have sworn he knew better, Jonathan Roberts, Edward Chang... and seeing the two of them arguing in the cafeteria gave him a feeling of deep sadness that only increased when he saw the boy of Chinese origin sit at the table with Chadwick Hartfield and Michael Jones.

Michael Jones, here's another name that constantly came to his mind throughout the day, because every time he thought of that name, the figure of a thin black boy came to his mind.

Michael Jones was obviously black, but he was also huge and this contrasted terribly with Jaime's memory. And then there was the fact that he'd called for a Michael in his sleep if he could take Jacob’s word for it...

Damn Jacob and his inability to keep his mouth shut. Now the whole school was talking about his nightmare and some nasty coments greatly increased what happened, making that day even worse.

Stranger than everything is that when he looked in the mirror in the morning he could have sworn he had lost some weight. Nothing too big, but enough to make the uniform baggy in some places . He'd explained it away as a result of stress, but with an uneasy feeling.

Worst of all, he found himself answering things in class that he was sure he wasn't supposed to know, about economics and politics, and then found himself almost agreeing with a statement Chadwick made.

And when this one along with Michael and Edward performed that idiotic burping demonstration at lunchtime he found himself laughing along.

As the afternoon progressed, it got worse, he found himself invaded by a mixture of tiredness and random flashes of alternating anger and satisfaction, totally out of his control. What was making him question his own sanity. Until finally the most violent wave of tiredness he had felt until then forced him to sit in his bed, untill he fall asleep.

....

He was again in the clearing in front of the cave. This time with no sign of the pups or the wolf, the wind was also calm, bringing with it the scent of sugar and cinnamon that he associated with his grandmother. But she didn't show up. Without any control on his part his legs kicked into motion, carrying him towards the gigantic, dark mouth of the cave. A feeling of dread inside him increased with each step, until the voice he associated with the scent whispered in his ear:

"...la fuerza de este lugar aumenta cada día mientras la tuya disminuye, hijo, sal de allí...

He crossed the threshold of the cave and found himself in the entrance hall of Dalton's central building, his feet carried him through corridors and staircases until he reached a huge door that opened as he approached, putting him in a room richly furnished. He continued walking until he reached a shelf, full of trophies, photos and clippings from newspapers and magazines, some dating back almost a century, all with reports on important and successful men. Right in the middle was a gilded plaque with a engraved phrase: "The Dalton's Crows, may their deeds endure through the ages." How pretentious... but it was then that he got a big fright.

"...no, Mike is doing the job. I know I should be there. Don't worry I'll be there for the finale, but I needed to talk to you.

Yes, I trust him completely, it's like you said it would be. Although you didn't warn me that the bond would affect me in other ways... I exhibited some unusual behavior today that concerned me and it could only have come from one of them.

Yes, I've seen your relationship with them all my life , I just thought it came about over time and not from some kind of magical bond. I understand. But even the minimum possible of them leaking into me is much more than I would like. After all, the reasons for they being chosen...

Standing by a window, looking towards the Dalton sports complex and talking on a cell phone was Chadwick Hartfield, dressed in gym clothes and fully engaged in conversation with the person on the phone.

"...the other reason for my contact. What kind of reactions can we expect in the Source?

I see. But from what Carmichael says he’s the most powerful in a long time, enough to guarantee our plans and Dalton’s stability for a long time, but if he's that strong...

I know he's untrained and vulnerable, but still...

Okay father, I just want to make sure everything goes according to plan, after all I'm the one who will have to deal with the results.

Yes, you're right, I should have complete confidence in our planning. And I do, I just want to know how it went with you, what happened to your Source?

Uncle Brent ?Really? Yes, it calms me down a lot."

That dream was even more bizarre than the last...

"...Chang is about to join us completely and the others will not be long in coming. Once the Source runs out of power he will join us of his own accord. And when that happens he will be unable to recognize himself." - Said Chadwick, seeming to look directly at where Jaime was.

However, before their eyes met the dream dissolved with that strong smell of cinnamon and Jaime woke up in his own bed, soaked in sweat, completely scared, but with the certainty that there was something very wrong with Dalton.

....

Jonathan knew that his life in Dalton would not be easy. But he wasn't the type to give up in the face of challenges, on the contrary, the bigger and more difficult the problem, the harder he dedicated himself to solving it. It was simply part of his nature. But if he was honest with himself maybe this time he had bitten off more than he could chew. On paper it hadn't been such a bad idea. After all, Dalton was the source of several successful men and having graduated there was the key to entering the best universities in the country. Of course, all these men were representatives of what he abhorred in society: power-hungry, concerned only with profits, capable of anything to ensure that his most sordid desires and pleasures were satisfied. But he'd justified it to himself and to his father that it was his chance to fight the system that created that kind of man from within. He knew the invitation could be a poison apple, but he had been willing to take the risk. Now as he walked into his dorm late at night, after being shooed out of the library the only place he liked in that prison he wondered if he couldn't talk to his father and ask him to get out of there, the only thing that stopped him from doing that was the shame of such an act. His dad has been through far worse than putting up with a bunch of snobs from a fancy school, what would he think of his son for dropping out so quickly? And he knew he wouldn't forgive himself for not trying harder. For not making those arrogant idiots even recognize their privilege. But try with whom? Certainly not with his roommate, who was currently sleeping indecently in the bed next to his. Eddie Chang was the epitome of everything that bothered him. He was cocky, aggressive, elitist, show off, and... very hot!

Obviously Robert wouldn't admit that to anyone. He wasn't ashamed of his sexuality, he had dated before, both men and women, he considered himself an open mind, but not so much to the point of being interested in someone like Chang and that was eating him up inside, because the problem was that despite out of all the denial this is exactly what was happening. But he was going to persevere and hope that his colleague never noticed. It was with that thought that he lay down on his bed, making a tremendous effort to look in the opposite direction. If he had given in to temptation he could have seen the other boy staring at him with eyes that glittered with mischief and a smug smile.

…..

Jonathan woke up feeling a very characteristic smell in the bedroom.

"What the fuck! Are you smoking weed, Chang?"

"Want a toke, Roberts?"

"What are you thinking? What if someone from management smells it?"

"Easy Roberts. I thought you, with all your 'think green' and 'no global warming' crap, would be a pot lover."

"I...I support medicinal use and..."

"Are you kidding me? You never smoked a joint? What did you and your liberal friends do for fun?"

"My friends used it, but I never wanted”

"Why not, man? There's nothing better for relaxing."

"I don't like feeling out of control."

"No kidding... I didn't even notice that you walk around looking like you have a stick up your ass..."

"Shut up and put out that damn joint."

"Fine, killjoy. But I tell you what, one of these days you're going to explode if you don't relax a little." - Edward replied leaving the half-smoked joint and the lighter on top of the bedside table and then getting up from the bed and taking off his underwear. Thus exposing all of his glory for Jonathan to admire, that is if he hadn't looked away.- "Dibs on the shower man."- Edward said as he walked, his cock swinging happily, making Jonathan look away again, this time towards the lighter, the joint and a huge sweaty underwear.

....

"So how's the situation?" Did he take the bait?"

"Which one?"

"Answer the question, Chang!"

It was mid-morning on Saturday and the boys didn't have school that day. The Crows were gathered at that moment in the headquarters, sharing some of the worldly pleasures that eighteen-year-olds weren't supposed to enjoy, but when you had the money, the right connections, and the right location, anything was possible.

"Not yet, but you were right Hartfield, he doesn't take his eyes off me when he thinks I'm not looking."

"And you have a problem with that?"

"Why would I? A hole is a hole. Don't get me wrong, one day I'm going to marry a beautiful woman who will raise my children and ensure my lineage continues. But until then, there's nothing wrong with having a little fun. And given the lack de of options for the opposite sex in Dalton... Roberts wouldn't be my first choice, but if what you say is true things might get more interesting."

"Things are going to get interesting I can assure you. But for that he needs to make the first move and soon. Dalton is sucking the Source right now and I need to secure Roberts and Miller on our side before Sanchez succumbs."- Chad admonished.

"I don't understand why Jones doesn't work with Miller while I take care of Roberts."

"I asked the same question bro. But apparently there's a sequence to follow according to the plan and..." - Started Mike

"....we shouldn't leave the plan." - Completed Eddie.

"Listen here you idiots, things have worked like this in Dalton for nearly a century and they continue to work for good reason. What we're doing here will secure our future. So make sure he takes the bait."

"Don't worry, Chad. He will, every one of them. And I'll be there to see it through."

….

Jonathan was sitting in the stands at Dalton Stadium watching with little interest the game unfolding in front of him. Surely he'd rather be doing something else right now, but when the closest thing to friends you had decided that chasing a ball was the best thing to do on a Saturday morning... The Miller twins weren't the kind of friend he would have at his old school. Coming from a small town in the countryside, they weren't quite rednecks, but by a slim margin. Thanks to their father, who despite working in the slaughter of animals wanted something better for his children and insisted that they receive a good education. They still had that country boy look and a strong south accent. But they were ordinary people, real people, that Jonathan could relate to... or so he thought. The truth is that it was difficult because they didn't have many interests in common. The situation with the third member of the small group was also not the best. Leonardo Reis was the son of Brazilian diplomats, what could have brought the two together, but Leonardo refused to discuss politics with him and only after much insistence he found out why, his coleague vehemently disapproved of some of the US foreign policies. Criticizing what he called the "cultural imposition" that the country took to other countries, including his. Jonathan wasn't oblivious to what his colleague said, but he was still a patriot and when he tried to talk about the good things America did for the world...

"The whole continent is America, Roberts. When you were interested it was America for Americans. All Americans. When interest diminished the size of America diminished with it, and so did the definition of American, didn't it?"

It had hit Jonathan like a blow. And after that moment he avoided having political discussions with Reis, but that left them without many subjects in common. The closest they came to saying anything interesting was when they talked about the Miller brothers at breakfast that morning before their arrival. After all they were the perfect picture of the ignorant American which apparently should irritate him far more than a potential ally like Jonathan.

"I understand you find my friendship with them weird, but I don't discuss politics with them, there's no reason for that, I know they are ignorant, but in addition they are good people, sincere and humble, without a trace of vanit. So, the blame for their ignorance lies with the politicians who want them to stay that way."

Ouch, that had been another blow, apparently the stereotype that Brazilians were a friendly people did not extend to children of diplomats. Leonardo's abrasiveness prevented Jonathan from taking the discussions further. Although he had been irritated to the point of asking why his colleague didn't do anything to try to modify his friends' ignorance and thus discovered the difference between the two:

"Roberts, they're the only friends I've made in this damn place and unlike you I'm not on a crusade, I don't want to be a politician and I only replied to you so you can stop bugging me. I really don’t care. So if the Millers want to shout to the winds about the wonders of the USA for me that's fine. As long as I can still discuss sports with them and play ball on the weekends maybe I can make it through the year without going crazy. And maybe you should do the same and stop trying to preach to a people you won't convert. Save your energy for when you get out of here , until then try to relax a little before you explode."

That speech kept reverberating in his head, Chang had used the exact same expression that morning. Not that he would listen to anything someone like Edward had to say, but Reis was different. Was he right? Was it better for him to keep quiet and stoically endure the year to end? It was so contrary to him that it seemed to deny nature itself. But it was being difficult, very difficult. He thought as he watched the Miller brothers run around with not a care in the world but to enjoy themselves.

And so he made a decision.

….

Jaime woke up that morning feeling again that he hadn't slept enough. But this time he knew why. His grandmother had tried to warn him twice. He should have listened the first time and gotten the hell out of there. His grandmother was special, she had been known as a healer in the small town where she lived in Mexico before the family immigrated to the United States and even there, people in the community who could not afford medical care often sought her out. Some others, mean ones, called her Bruja behind her back, which infuriated him when he was little. But she just laughed at Jaime's indignation and told him that was exactly what she was. After his grandmother's death he never thought about those conversations again, until now.

He thought about when he got out of bed and took off his pajamas that for some reason looked like they were made for someone much bigger than him. Which he didn't pay much attention to, with the flow of ideas of how to get out Dalton occupying all his thoughts until he was paralyzed when he saw his own image in the bathroom mirror. There was something wrong, he was absolutely sure of it, but he couldn't say what it was.

The image reflected was that of an eighteen-year-old boy of Mexican origin, fit and… handsome, very handsome. And that... that was who he'd always been. He thought giving himself an imaginary shake and going to shower. He had to get out of there, he would have plenty of time to admire himself in the mirror when he was away from this place.

….

Jonathan gave up feigning interest in the game and left the stadium, skirting it until he reached the woods that surrounded the entire property. He walked aimlessly until he found a clearing where he could sit. For the thousandth time since early morning he asked himself what the fuck he thought he was doing as he pulled a lighter and Edward's joint from his pants pocket.

Everything happened very quickly, while he heard the shower in the bathroom, he found himself strongly attracted by the three objects that his colleague had left behind. The desire to take Chang's underwear and smell them, to feel the pungent smell of his colleague was so strong that... without stopping to think he took the lighter and the joint, dressed quickly in the first clothes he could find and left the room running before the other boy got out of the shower.

After that, the day only got worse, from the altercation with Leonardo at breakfast to his inability to participate in the soccer game because his fear of running into Chang if he went to the dorm to change his clothes and ended up being interrogated about the whereabouts of his stuff. Just imagining his colleague's smug look... of course he could tell he had thrown that crap away which is exactly what he was supposed to do. But if he threw it away he couldn't use it. And that was the problem, he wanted. He wanted a lot. He had tried to tell himself no, that this was the result of Chang's teasing, or Leonardo's aggressive comment. But the truth is, he wanted it. It was ridiculous but apparently the school had beaten him in just two weeks. He thought what his father would say about that. Well... as far as he knew his dad had his fair share of drug experiences in his youth, although the general public didn't have a clue about that. Still, that wasn't him, he should fight that...

"... if you don't relax a little you're going to explode, Roberts..." - He heard himself say it out loud, while without even realizing it he lit the joint and slowly brought it to his mouth, his hand shaking. He hesitated for a final moment, closed his eyes and breathed in..."

...

"Let me get this straight Mr. Sanchez, you want to drop out of school? Right at the beginning of the semester."

"I haven't adapted sir, I really think it's better for me to go back home to my old school and maybe you'll find someone better to take my place."

"Someone better? Do you think so little of yourself and Dalton, Jaime?"

Principal Carmichael asked from behind his desk, giving Jaime a look between disappointed and challenging.

"I'm sorry to disappoint you sir. But I really don't think I belong here."

"Did you even try to fit in Jaime?" - Retorted the director, seeming to know that all the boy didn't want was to fit in. - "I want you to put aside my disappointment, although you are right to believe that you have let me down. For I see great potential in you boy, you remind me of many young men who passed through here." Continued the director with his first smile since Jaime entered the room. - "What I want you to worry about is the disappointment you'll cause your parents. I was the one who talked them over Jaime, remember that. The pride in their eyes... are you prepared to see disappointment instead? Without even have tried?"

The bastard was good at manipulation, Jaime thought. And the worst part is that he wasn't mistaken, Jaime's parents were going to be really disappointed. And that was really crazy, wasn't it? Give up a place at a school like Dalton because of some weird dreams? It was insane and... a gust of wind came in through the open window of the principal's office, carrying a scent of sugar and cinnamon.

"They will understand sir." - Jaime persevered, even as he saw the headmaster's brow tighten into a frown. Making the boy shrink in the chair waiting for the explosion that ended up not happening. Carmichael got up and went to the window and closed it, before turning to Jaime with a wide smile on his face.

"All right, Mr. Sanchez, if that is indeed your wish I won't hold you."

"Thank you sir." - Jaime said getting up and letting out a sigh of relief.

"Submit a formal notice of termination on monday when the school is open for business so that the responsible sector can carry out the necessary formalities."

"What? What do you mean?"

"It's the weekend Jaime, most of our employees are at home."

"But...but could you..."

"Oh no, I'm afraid I can't. Here in Dalton all the things are done in the right way, Jaime. Which brings me to another matter. Those clothes of yours are awfully big, please find pieces that fit your size while you're staying here. Even if it's only for a few days. I’ll see you on Monday. I suggest you use this time to think and try to adapt, maybe by then you'll realize that Dalton is where you belong."

….

Jonathan seemed to float, at least that's what he thought, as he could barely feel his feet touching the ground, while the trees around him became an indistinct blur and then gave way to a lawn that resembled a giant tapestry. He didn't know if it was normal to feel that way when you were high and in reality he didn't care at all. He didn't care! And that was sensational. He walked through the school grounds as if he were gliding through a kaleidoscope of colors and sensations and joy, joy like he had never felt before. That walk took him to the edge of a court, where a bunch of young men were running after a ball. A few minutes ago he had found that kind of thing boring, but a few minutes ago he hadn't felt that joy. He sat on a bench and watched with a goofy smile onand all the attention span he could muster the ball passing from hand to hand.

If he hadn't been in that state maybe he would have realized that as he watched the boys they watched him too.

"Looks like Roberts has finally taken one of your baits." - Commented Chad to Eddie.

"I told you it was only a matter of time."

"Is he high?" - Mike asked laughing.

"Uhum, and that's strong, I don't know where you got it Hartfield, but a few puffs nearly knocked me over, at this point Roberts probably doesn't even know who he is."

"What is our goal isn't it?" - Mike commented.

"Yes, but I confess that I would rather he had taken my underwear. That way it would be over and I could have had my fun."

"Disgusting, Chang"

"Not everyone is a prude like you, Hartfield."

"I'm not prudish Chang, I'm just classy."

"All your class and no fun, brother."

"If you want to have fun so badly do your job with Roberts."

"With pleasure! Watch and learn, dickheads." - He said walking confidently towards Jonathan. Who in turn only noticed the giant approaching when he stopped before him obscuring the sunlight.

"Wow, man. You're huge."

"You can't imagine how much… So Roberts, I would never imagine a guy as correct as you taking other people's things..."

"Says the guy who stole my sneakers."

"Ah, so you noticed? But I'm not a correct guy Roberts, you've made that clear several times. So if you do what I do what does that make you?" - Eddie asked as he sat down next to Jonathan on the bench, his smile growing.

"I don't know man…leave me alone."

"Oh but I can't do that Johnny Boy..."

"Do not call me that."

"Why not? It's just a nickname, something between friends."

"Because I'm not like that surfer guy and and you're not my friend!"

"You hurt my feelings, I thought we were doing so well, sharing things like real friends do, no worries at all, no sir, no worries, just enjoying life, Johnny Boy."

"I told you I'm not like him!"

"Aren't you? Really? Aren't you high as a rocket? And you're not high because you stole your roommate's joint? Aren't those things he would do when he was your age?"

"I...I...no...I just wanted to..."

"What did you want? Come on, J.B. tell your friend Eddie." - Eddie said putting his arm around his colleague's shoulders. Making the smell of sweat mixed with expensive perfume hit Jonathan full force, overloading a brain already at the limit.

"You smell… good..."

"Not quite the answer I was hoping for but... I know, we'll get to that part soon J.B., but no skipping steps. Our another friend Chad doesn't like that at all."

"Chad is … a fucking …. asshole..."

"I know, I know, but so do I, and you're my friend, you're friends with a fucking asshole, so what does that make you?"

"I'm not... am I... am? I don't know..."

"Fuck man and you were supposed to be some kind of political genius. Either it was all bullshit or this weed is way more potent than I realized."

"Huh?"

"Nothing man, nothing. How about you let your friend Eddie help you? Because that's what friends do, isn't it?" - Eddie said, getting closer to his colleague and ensuring that he received another hit of his potent musk.

"Sure... that's what friends… do.”

"Great! And you know what else friends do J.B.? Have fun together! And that's what you want, isn't it, have fun. It's what you've always wanted and if you have to break some rules for that, that's fine."

"Ahn, no... rules are important, they are the... aaaa.... struc… structu… fuck… structure of society."

"True, but the rules don't have to apply the same way to everyone, do they? If you can twist them a little bit, like you did this morning, it's no big deal, is it? You didn't stop being a nice guy because of that. You just did what you needed to do to have a little fun. And society didn't fall apart. So we're going to agree on one thing, a promise between friends. Soon the weed effect will wear off and the fun will go away. But you don't want that, do you?"

"No…I want to…have fun!"

"Finally!"

"Huh?"

"Damn it, I'm already getting pissed at this slowness.... pay attention to your friend Eddie, J.B. Pay attention! You’re going to sleep soon and when you wake up you won't remember our little conversation. But you'll remember two very important and irrefutable truths about yourself, the first is that you want to have fun, feel good is the most important thing for you and you want your friends to have fun too, especially your best friend Eddie ."

"Eddie... friend... fun."

"That's right, J.B., we're almost there. And because you want your friend Eddie to have a good time in the next few hours you're going to do whatever he asks of you, prove whatever he offers you, believe whatever he tells you, even be whatever he wants you to be, do we have a deal?"

"....do we have a deal…?"

"Yes, we have. And we're going to enjoy every moment of it. Chad, Mike help me out here, he’s off. I've never seen weed do that man, are you sure we didn't fry his brains?"

"There's nothing different about the weed. It just opened a door. What you saw is the force of the contract in action. And that's not even going to be the most impressive part I can assure you."

"Well, then help me carry him, I can't wait to introduce you to my new friend, J.B." - Eddie replied with a smile that mirrored their own.

….

"I've put together a pile of materials on Dalton's history, Mr Sanchez. Unfortunately some of them have not yet been digitized and can only be seen here in the library as they date back to the beginning of the last century."

"No problem, ma'am. I don't mind, I can study here."

"Academic work?"

"No ma'am. Just personal interest."

"I am happy to see a student dedicating himself to researching the history of the place. Dalton has a rich and vast history."

"Well, I feel like if I don't find out I'm going to deeply regret it."

....

Jonathan woke up with the worst headache he had ever had. The simple act of opening his eyes was a huge effort. At least he was rewarded by a vision that was both wonderful and frightening.

"Good afternoon, sleepyhead"

"E-eddie?"

"J.B.” - Replied the colleague, smiling when called by his nickname.

"What happened, where are we?"

"You blacked out, man, in the middle of the schoolyard, so we had to bring you here." - Eddie explained, his smile even more pleased to see that J.B. had responded to the nickname without even realizing it.

"Thanks, man. But where exactly is here?"

"A place only a select few have ever set foot. Welcome to The Crow's Nest, J.B."

"What? Why would you bring me here?" - Jonathan asked indignantly.

"Don't be ungrateful J.B, you just look skinny, but you must have some muscle around, or those bones are made of lead. Carrying you around the whole school discreetly wasn't easy."- Commented a black boy sitting in front of a gigantic television and holding a video game controller.

"Do not call me like that."

"I thought that was your nickname"

"It's not…well it is in a way…but only Eddie calls me that and that's only because we're friends."

"Well then, next time you get wasted I'll drop you where you fall."

"Mike, leave the guy alone, he just woke up and he's never been through this before."

"Fine, but a thank you wasn't going to kill him."

"He's right, J.B."

"I didn't ask anyone to carry me, let alone this far."

"Apologize J.B. and stop being a pain in the ass, Mike is cool."

"Okay, thank you very much Michael for carrying me to an unknown place without my consent and I'm sorry if I got mad about it."

"J.B.!”

"Okay, okay. Thanks man."

"It's nothing J.B. - Mike replied smiling and staring at his colleague, who even started to form a sentence but stopped abruptly when he received a glare from Eddie.

"So where did Chad go? I hate playing alone. And I don't play with you anymore.”

"That's because you lost."

"No, it's because the time I won you almost broke the video game and my face."

"Fair enough. Chad went into town to get food. So why don't you ask J.B. to play with you?"

"I thank you again for the help and all…but I'm not hungry and I'd actually rather go back to the dorm."

"Liar." - Mike said still smiling.

"I beg your pardon..."

"Man, you smoked a joint potent enough to take you to the moon, you sure as hell want to eat a lot." - Mike retorted and suddenly Jonathan realized that that was true when he felt a gigantic hole in his belly that chose that moment to let out a very noticeable snoring.

"Told ya! Come on man, sit here, I won't bite you if you promise not to bite me, hungry boy." - Said Mike smiling, while Eddie stood up flexing his giant muscles.

"It'll be easier for you to get food from us than begging in the school kitchen, Chad should be here soon. So why don't you enjoy a little fun playing with Mike. In the meantime I'm going to take a shower, I stink. Chad will Kill me if he find’s me like this." - Said Eddie pulling an indignant Jonathan by the arms and placing him in the armchair next to Mike at the same hitting him with that pungent combination of sweat, expensive perfume and... hotness. Leaving him to such a stunned point that he only realized that Mike handed him a control and started the game when his colleague poked him.

"Pick one, J.B."

"Mortal Kombat, really?"

"Do you have a problem? We have other options, COD, Madden, Fifa and even some RPGs that maybe be more your thing. But sometimes all you need is to blow some heads with your bare hands. It's very useful with Eddie, he He's the type who'd love to blow some heads off in real life, so playing a game ends up being a safer option."

"Didn't you just say you didn't want to play with him anymore?Because he wanted to beat you up."

"Yeap, we're obligated to let him finish us in the game or he'll finish us in real life." - Mike said laughing.

"Classic Eddie." - Jonathan agreed, laughing along as he swiped through the game's fighter panel.

"But don't expect the same leniency Johnny B. I've been itching to crush someone for days. Chad just wants to play NBA, he's really obsessed with basketball, there's no way I can beat him even though I'm still better than him where it really matters, on the court. But when the new NBA comes out in a few day forget about your chance to play anything different for a long time J.B."

"You say it like you expect me to come back here." Commented Jonathan still looking for a fighter.

Why not? You're Eddie's friend, Eddie is our friend. It's natural that we spend more time together and even you have to admit that the Nest is fucking awesome.”

"Things aren't that simple, Mike." Jonthan answered still undecided about which fighter to choose.

"Of course they are, man. And you know what else is simple? Pick a fucking character." - Mike replied taking the control from Jonathan's hand and choosing for him.

"Hey! Not cool, man. Johnny Cage? You've gotta be kidding me."

"A Johny for a Johnny. See, simple. You gotta learn to relax man, I actually think you could learn a thing or two from that Johny." Said Mike pointing to the screen while returning the control to Jonathan.

"Like what? Being an arrogant asshole? That think he's a kind of God's gift to mankind?"

"What you call arrogance I call confidence. Wouldn't you like to be more confident?"

"I'm confident, man!" - Jonathan replie. His voice firmer, posture straighter, with a hintof smile that could be described as bordering on arrogance.

"Definitely you are, if you think you can beat me. But what your problem with Johnny Cage is?, If it's not about his confidence."

"The guy has no commitment, he's in a life or death situation and he still cracks jokes."

"He's a chill guy, better to laugh in the face of danger than to be terrified. And certainly better to chill out than spend all your time tense and worried about imaginary problems like you are." - Answered Mike while attacking with everything his colleague in the match.

"I don't get tense all the time, I can be chill." -Jonathan snapped, posture relaxing, legs spread and looking comfortable for the first time.

"Fine, you're confident and chill like him, so what's your problem with him?"

"The guy is an exhibitionist, bro"

"He's a movie star and has a badass body of course he's going to show off. If you had a body like his you'd show off too."

"I may not have a body like his, but I'm not that bad." - Answered Jonathan flexing muscles and taking his clothes to the limit.

"If this isn't showing off J.B...."

"Man, I might not be a monster like you guys, but I worked hard to get what I got, nothing fairer than showing off a little bit."

"Exactly like Johnny Cage."

"I know man, you chose well, he's my favorite character. So much so..."

"Finish Him - A well-known macabre voice echoed through the room shortly after J.B. performed a series of blows. But it didn't stop there, as the boy began to press the buttons in a specific sequence with the dexterity of a professional in the subject. - Johnny Cage Wins! Fatality!"

"Suck that Big Mike."

"Oh, come on, this whole time you were hiding the game, man?"

"You jumped to the wrong conclusions, man. Ready to lose again?"

You wish. I'm going to rip your virtual ass, asshole."

"Keep believing that, bro. That way I keep having fun at your expense."

"Jerk."

"I thought it was mandatory to hang out with you...”

"An answer worthy of your namesake, J.B."

"What to do if this is how I am?"

….

Jaime had scoured the pages of the books about Dalton and hadn't gotten much information other than what he had received from the institution itself. The academy was founded by elite families at the end of the 19th century, the land where the school was located had been donated by Dalton Hartfield, one of Chad's ancestors, who did not see the completion of the work and was honored by the first board of directors of the academy. Since then big names from the most diverse areas had passed through those corridors... and the same propaganda as always. Information was even more scarce in relation to the history of the clubs. There were five of them, each connected to one of the Dalton founding families. But so far he hadn't had much luck identifying much more than that. It didn't help matters that for much of the time he had been researching he had been overcome by a feeling of intense drowsiness, even dozing off for a few minutes. And the worst thing was, when that feeling passed, it was replaced by a hunger so intense that it made him eat lunch, twice! Which in turn made him feel drowsy again... that sequence of inconveniences combined with the lack of information probably were the main reason for the irritation he felt. He couldn't leave that place, he couldn't get information that would help him understand more about it and he was... terribly bored.

Jaime was never the type to do crazy things, or use drugs. He was quiet, studious, a little inquisitive perhaps. But today, just when he needed it most, he had an absurd desire to do nothing. No, that wasn't exactly it, he wanted to do something for fun, at the same time that he could just… relax. There was no point finding out what was going on in Dalton if in two days he would be out of there. He almost talked himself into giving up, but as he started to gather the books he noticed one he hadn't seen before.

"A Brief Account of the History of Dalton and His Accomplishments. Written by the Crows Club in the year 1956 under the chairmanship of Chadwick Wentworth Hartfield." Jaime read aloud, then opened the book and leafed through it until he found a photo of the authors.

He then sat down and went back to the beginning of the book with his interest fully renewed.

....

"Can any of the wankers help out here?" - Chad asked carrying who knows how enough food to feed a small family for a week. Although given his gigantic size maybe that wasn't such a big exaggeration.

"Here man, let me take these." - Said J.B. taking at least four boxes of pizza, while Mike grabbed two packs of beer, leaving Chad with just a few bags that he deposited in table before shooting Jonathan a smile he never thought his colleague would be able to give. He still had that air of arrogance, but also joy, as if he was genuinely happy that Jonathan was there.

"Hi Roberts, glad to see you made yourself at home."

"Sorry if I intruded on your space Chadwick, but the guys insisted I stay and besides, you guys brought me here."

"Relax, Roberts. I was just kidding, a friend of Eddie's and from what I'm seeing a friend of Mike is a friend of mine too."

"Then you can call me J.B. since it looks like I'm going to have to get used to that stupid nickname."

"Since we're exchanging pleasantries, you can call me Chad and help yourself to J.B." - Said the boy opening one of the pizza boxes and making Jonathan's hunger reach painful levels.

"Thanks, man. But shouldn't we wait for Eddie?"

"With the way Chang takes so long to get ready all the food will be rotten by the time we eat."

"I heard that, Hartfield, and I think it's a enormous hypocrisy on your part since you're the only one of us who's always dressed up." - Said Eddie Chang entering at that moment dressed in a much simpler way than his friend and bringing a bottle in his hand.

"What do you have there, Eddie?" Mike asked curiously.

"A little treat for later. But now I want to eat. - Eddie replied before turning to J.B. and seeing that his colleague still hadn't eaten anything. - Why aren't you eating yet, man? You must be hungry."

For the first time in what seemed like hours Jonathan felt like he was himself and not some inconsequential asshole who thought he could do whatever he wanted without care. But at the same time his three classmates had been nice to him in a way he hadn't thought possible and he had really enjoyed himself. Not knowing what to do, he opted for the safest option.

"I think I'd better go and let you eat, thanks for the afternoon guys."

"What the fuck do you think you're doing bro?" - Eddie replied irritably. Scaring Jonathan who had forgotten how explosive he could be.

"I... I..."

"Sit your goddamn ass over there and eat a slice of the pizza Chad get the trouble of getting to you."

Shocked and half numb Jonathan sat up and picked up a slice of pizza, took a bite and felt like he had never eaten anything so good in his entire life. Without stopping to think, he devoured the rest of the piece in a few seconds, accepting the beer that Mike held out to him and taking a long drink, feeling the icy liquid go down his throat with another wave of pleasure.

"Great, that's my man! Now that you're out of the loop can you tell us why the fuck you wanted to leave?" - Eddie said, his voice ranging from pride to irritation in an instant.

"Sorry guys. It's just that you've been nice to me and I didn't want to pick a fight so I thought it would be best to just leave."

"And why did you think you would pick a fight, J.B? Did we do something to offend you in any way?"

"It's just...never mind."

"No, you can talk, man. We're all friends here, aren't we? And while you're talking, you can eat and drink as much as you like, it's on the house."

"So, that's exactly the problem. - Jonathan said as he helped himself to another piece and faced his colleagues sitting around him, each one also holding a piece of pizza and a beer. - The On The House. Don't get me wrong, you guys are cool, but it's about privilege, about bending the rules. There's no way you could have gotten those alcoholic drinks within the law. Or the fact that apparently you can come and go from school as you please."

"I understand you, man. But that's kind of hypocritical of you, isn't it? Mister son of a senator? - Mike started causing a feeling of deja vu in Jonathan. - You came from privilege, I didn't."

"It's different man. I didn't deliberately choose to be who I am and I never purposely used my father figure to get something. Whereas you chose to share in the perks that Eddie and Chad's privilege affords."

"How can one thing be different from the other? You say you didn't deliberately choose to use privilege, but you're here at Dalton, an elite school, home to some of the greatest examples of privilege in our history. By your own choice. There is no difference at all. I just accepted who I am instead of hiding."

Jonathan felt uncomfortable both physically, as it felt like his clothes were suffocating him, and mentally, as he found himself agreeing with Mike's argument. Though a part of him told him there was a flaw in his colleague's logic. But that part didn't have a chance to speak up, because while he was trying to collect his thoughts, between one drink of beer and another, it was Chad's turn to speak up.

"J.B. you complain about our supposed privilege. But here in Dalton it's no different than anyone else, anyone with a car and permission can go out for the weekend. And that's fine, alcohol shouldn't be here, but the way you're drinking that beer is certainly not the first time you've had it. So maybe it's time for you to stop judging others. And especially stop judging yourself. I think that you might have what my father calls the Underdog Syndrome. You are ashamed of the position you have, of what it represents and in an attempt to have the sympathy of others and be accepted you diminish yourself and deny who you are. And that's why you get so angry with Dalton and with us, because you're afraid of realizing that you might have chosen exactly the right place for you. And everything you've done today just showed you that maybe it's time to accept yourself."

Hearing that irritated Jonathan, because it wasn't true, it couldn't be true. Yet he was here, in Dalton, he had had fun with the others, even struck up friendships with them. Was he really that different from the others? Damn it, why were his clothes so tight? That T-shirt was going to end up suffocating him.

He remembered while playing with Mike. The joy, the fun. He knew that was who he was, chill, confident, fun. So why did he insist on making things complex? Why did everything with him have to be so much work? Maybe Chad was right and he should assume he was like the others at Dalton. No! He wasn't, he had goals, he had plans and he... just wanted to relax sometimes and have a little fun. Damn restrictive thing! He thought right before ripping his own shirt with his hands.

"Suffocating crap shit!" - He shouted. Not knowing if he was talking about the T-shirt or his own life. Staring angrily at the fallen pieces of fabric until Eddie started laughing, and then he was laughing and suddenly they were all laughing out loud like this was the funniest thing that will ever happen to them.

"Man that was fucking awesome! You looked like the Hulk!"- Mike said, amazed.

"Well, the t-shirt sure was tight, I don't know how I managed to get it on in the morning!" - Commented J.B. back to a chill attitude.

"And the funniest thing is that the pants held up, barely but they held up, like in the old Hulk comics. The only thing missing was being purple." - Mike completed.

"I think the conversation around here has gotten unnecessarily complicated. It's a fucking Saturday afternoon, we should be having fun and not discussing that sort of thing. Which brings me to this beauty here, I chose this one in honor of you J.B." - Said Eddie taking the bottle of drink he brought with him and showing the label to his colleagues: Johnnie Walker Private Collection. - Now sit there and enjoy a classy man drink with your friends. And if you make a scandal like that again, you'll have to settle it with me." Eddie concluded, handing his friend a glass of the golden drink. Which he accepted, sat down and smiled a totally different smile from his usual but very similar to others in that room.

"You chose well Eddie, nothing pleases me like a respectable drink a good company."

….

"The history of the city of Dalton is intertwined with the history of the academy of the same name, as one would not exist without the other. The lands that gave birth to both were originally owned by Dalton "The Crow" Hartfield and were received from as a reward for his participation on the side of the Union in the Civil War. Although for many that was a poisoned reward because the lands located in northern New Hampshire were considered cursed since the time that the Algonquian natives inhabited the place.

Dalton Hartfield a successful businessman in full maturity, didn't care about what he considered outdated superstitions and decided to use the land to create a school for young men that he could shape in the way he saw himself and with which he raised his own children: to be strong and powerful men both physically and mentally.

During his life he repeated several times that he valued ambition and insight in a young man more than purely academic achievements." -Read Jaime thinking that old Dalton had indeed successfully gotten what he wanted if he counted most of Jamie's peers at the academy.

Before continuing reading, he stared for a long time at an image of Chad's ancestor who, in a way, was responsible for what was now happening to him.

"... however the construction of the school faced problems from the beginning, due to material, animal and finally human losses. After a while the construction team itself had to be replaced by men sent from other states, and even these began to accuse those lands from being cursed. It was necessary for Dalton himself to go to the construction site and decide to spend a night alone in the place that everyone accused of being the lair of some evil spirit. When the construction teams returned the following day, they found the Lord Harrfield still alive, still imposing and assuring them that from that moment the work would continue without interruption. The work however would not be completed until 1873 shortly after Dalton himself died. His only requests were that he be buried in the place he he put so much work into building it and he couldn't see the whole thing being named after him, not the family name but his first name.

His son Dalton Hartfield Junior was the first chairman of the board of directors and with unanimous votes from the other members of the council made up of members of other powerful families of the time accepted both requests of the late father. The city of Dalton emerged as a result of the departure of professors and employees to work at the academy, and even today most of its residents are connected in some way to our institution."

"Wonderful, I'm in a prison surrounded by miles of forests and even if I manage to get out of here I'll run into more jailers." - Thought Jaime being invaded by a feeling of frustration that seemed more intense than expected. Pushing that feeling aside, he flipped through the book until he found another passage of interest.

"Regarding the clubs. The tradition of Dalton's clubs would only be established in 1888 with the creation of the first of them, the Dalton Crows, by Dalton Hartfield IV. The name was chosen in honor of his great-grandfather's nickname. The other clubs followed the tradition of choosing animal names, usually choosing names linked to totemic animals of native peoples in honor of the first inhabitants of the region. - Read Jaime - Beautiful homage, first they exterminate, then occupy the land and finally make a cultural appropriation." Jaime commented to himself, frustration rising inside him, like boiling hot water.

"... since then three more Hartfields have occupied the chair of president of the Crows, including the current president Chadwick Wentworth Hartfield. As for the traditions and rituals of each club, we will not talk about them because they are exclusive knowledge of its members. But we advise every Dalton student who reads this manuscript to join one of the clubs and experience the values of brotherhood, companionship and masculinity that they are sure to provide." - Finished Jaime turning the page in the hope of finding some useful information even though he knew it would be unlikely. But even knowing that, the anger he felt when he didn't find anything made him explode in an unexpected way.

"What the fuck, stupid book, stuoid school that won't let me out!" - He shouted, the screams echoing in the empty library. But that wasn't the worst of it, as he was immediately overcome by a fit of alien and uncontrollable laughter. When that too ended he sat down again, put his hands on his face and cried thinking about the possibility that he was going crazy little by little.

....

"So, J.B., what's it like being a senator's son?" Mike asked his friend.

"I don't know man, most of the time it's cool, my dad works a lot, we don't see much of each other, but whenever we see each other it's cool."

"Really? Senator Roberts has always struck me as the demanding type. Doesn't he push you a lot?" - Chad asked.

"Pressure in what way?" asked J.B.

"I imagine he pressured you to participate in campaign, fundraisers, do some social work, that sort of thing. Not to mention he must expect you to follow in his footsteps. There must have been some pressure in that regard, no?"

"No man, my dad is cool, yes I did all those things, but because it was in my best interest to do it and not because he pushed me. And as for following in his footsteps, well, he's always made it clear that he doesn't want to build a dynasty, that he is precisely against this kind of family power, but that I am free to pursue a career in politics if that is what I want."

"Seriously man, do you really like this shit?" - Mike asked.

"Of course I like it, why would I do something I don't like?" - J.B. retorted, taking another sip of Whiskey and savoring the intense flavor with pleasure at the same time the drunken feeling that had settled in his head over the last few hours intensified.

"Well, it doesn't seem like your kind of thing." - Mike replied, seeing his colleague bring one of the very expensive Cohiba cigars that Chad had offered to his friends to his lips.

"In what way?"

"What Mike is saying is that you are a guy who likes to enjoy the finer things in life, a drink and a cigar with friends, play video game or ball, sometimes smoking a joint followed by a good meal. Not counting the hours you spend at the gym working those muscles and feeling the pleasure of seeing them grow." - Chad replied, while sipping his whiskey."

A sense of confusion added to J.B.'s drunkenness. That person wasn't him. It couldn't be. But at the same time he had done most of those things that very day and was still doing them, as the cigar and whiskey in his hand attested. And no one was his size without dedication to the gym. Besides, he had vague memories of playing ball with his friends. Alright, he liked a good time and who didn't? But that didn't stop him from doing other things, useful things, important things!

"I don't see how one thing excludes the other, guys." - He replied.

"He's right. - Eddie agreed. - You're forgetting that J.B. is a man from Dalton, he has his ambitions, his goals and if for that he needs to endure fundraiser and social work, it's part of the process, right? But I bet you took advantage of some events to have a few drinks and others to slip into some skirts or pants. Being the senator's son must have been easy, right J.B., you degenerate?"

No, he would never do something like that, that went against everything his father believed in! - He thought dropping the cigar and whiskey and holding his face with his hands... - But he wasn't his father, he was a man and had the right to his opinions and his pleasures. Besides, what his father didn't know didn't hurt him. And there was nothing wrong with him making out with a campaign agent or letting a loyal voter give him a blowjob... and the drinks were there for drinking, wasn't it?

In those few moments his body went through another expansion, pectorals widening, arms the size of cannons, legs the size of tree trunks taking his pants to the limit and leaving him the approximate size of a mammoth, that is, the same size as his friends. The face that was already handsome also took on the same predatory beauty as the others, wrapped in the characteristic air of arrogance and superiority. The malicious smile partially hidden by the return of the cigar to the mouth and the eyes shining with mischief.

"You know me too well Eddie."

"Not as much as I'd like."

"Dude, come on, let it flirt when we're not around." - Mike spoke indignantly.

"You can relax Mike, nothing is going to happen between us. As much as I love a good Wagyu steak, being with Eddie would be like being with myself, we are too similar."

"Apparently not enough for you to know I'm Chinese and wagyu beef is Japanese, asshole."

"And who cares?"

"You should if you want to avoid a diplomatic incident while working with your father." - Commented Chad smiling.

"Please, dude. More respect for my abilities. I would never make a gaffe like that with someone important."

"You're asking to get your ass kicked Roberts and not the way you like it."

"Damn, you're really hot when you're pissed off. But no way man. We can be each other's wing man and pick up some holes to fuck.At least until Chad gets us the bridesmaids of his snotty future wife. And even after that if you don't lose balls once married."

"Fuck you, asshole. - Eddie replied but smiling. - Although it's not a bad idea.

"You assume I'm going to invite you to my wedding." - Chad spoke.

"What's the use of this little club here if it's not to strengthen the bonds of friendship and fellowship of Dalton's promising young men?"

"As far as I know you are not part of the club J.B." - Mike replied with a smile identical to the others.

"So what's the point of all this courting? Obviously you want me at the club and that's fine with me. We're going to have a lot of fun together."

....

Jaime found himself in the Crows' headquarters again. Two of them, one shirtless, were playing video games while exchanging insults in a friendly manner. Jaime couldn't see their faces at first, until the shirtless one turned around.

"Hey Mike, bro, get me another beer."

With a shock Jaime realized that it was Jonathan Roberts, but a very different version of the one he knew.

"I'm not your employee J.B. Get your ass off the chair and get it yourself." - Mchael Jones replied, sitting in another armchair talking to Chadwick Hartfield, but there was something behind him, a kind of shadow.

"If I lose here you're going to have to play with Eddie."

"Good point!" - Answered Mike getting up and taking a beer to his colleague. And so Jaime was able to see what was behind him. It was the shape of a thin boy. And as he followed with his gaze he saw that both Jonathan and Eddie had figures behind them. He approached Chadwick trusting that his colleague wouldn't be able to see him and was surprised because even he had a figure behind him, not as thin as the others, but still something that put him on the same level as his colleagues. As he watched Mike sat back down.

"Now what? J.B. is fully integrated. What's next?"

"Tomorrow we'll take a little field trip and secure Miller. Then we just wait for the Source to come to us."

"Just that?"

"From what my dad and Carmichael said after the Source joined us, yes. Just that."

"But...?"

"No buts, Mike."

"Come on Chad, I think that despite the short time we've known each other we're friends. Besides, we're so similar that I can recognize the same signs of concern in you that I recognize in myself."

"It's just that we're very close and I fear that something could fail at the last minute, some unforeseen event. I've already had to deal with the little things that each of you brought to the group, and to my... personality. I'm afraid of failing Dalton ."

"You knew when you started the job that it would be a challenge and so far you've done it well. You are a descendant of Dalton and you fulfill the role perfectly."

"But I wasn't always like this. Before you I was the first to be here. The first on the Contract. Tell me Mike, what do you remember from before?"

"I don't know man, I know that Dalton changed me and I know that you had a part in that, just like I had in what came after. But I don't remember before and to be honest I don't even want to, for me my life has always been like this way and I like it, I like it a lot. I like who I am, I like being like this and I like you motherfucker"

"But that's what worries me man, I like you too and those two suckers over there. Really. I believe little about me must have changed when I came here, after all the source wasn't even here when I came and I'm a Hartfield, we are bred from the cradle in the Dalton ways. What worries me is this... fraternity. When I started the job I was impeccable and relentless. And now I'm here talking about my feelings and apprehensions. That doesn't it came from me. And I'm afraid I'm failing Dalton in that."

"Man, Dalton valued ambition and relentlessness. But he also valued companionship and friendship between his men. It's all in those damn books you made me read. Another thing, you talk about like the old man is still around."

"But he is Mike. His bones are here in this place and more than that, his very essence. It's what guides us and points the way. It's why all of you are here."

"Now you said something I've been itching to ask for days. Eddie and J.B. I understand, but me and Miller? Don't get me wrong, I'm grateful for the opportunity and like I said I'm very happy. But I don't understand."

"Come with me, we're already on the final stretch anyway. You two too, follow me." Chad said, guiding his friends to a red door at the back of the room, where they entered one by one. Jaime stood for a moment staring at the door before deciding to follow them.

….

Jaime walked through the door and found himself back in Dalton's library, wrapped in the familiar scent of cinnamon. Open on his study table was one of the books he had been reading, scribbled on the edges of the pages a proverb he knew, but slightly altered.

"All work and no play makes Jaime a dull boy."

He read it aloud, feeling invaded by a feeling of uneasiness. How did he know that phrase? As he tried to remember he heard a puppy yelp coming from a hallway between bookshelves. Following the noise he found himself in front of an empty corridor.As he turned to return to the starting point, a book fell in front of him. Jaime picked it up from the floor and read the title.

"Doctor Sleep. A Sequel to The Shining"

And suddenly he understood where the sick feeling had come from. He watched the Kubrick movie only once and it traumatized him so much that he never even considered reading the Stephen King book, let alone the sequel. But if for some reason these visions were showing him that book, that must have mattered. As he prepared to open it he was interrupted by a growl.

When he turned to see where the noise had come from, he found himself facing two huge wolves, different from the one in his first dream. Without stopping to think he broke into a run, the wolves in hot pursuit, when he reached the end of the corridor he ran into that first wolf. He dodged the other way, dropping the book in the process. Without looking back he continued to run desperately until he found a room with an open door. He rushed in and closed the door behind him, letting out a sigh of relief. He could hear the howling and scratching of the wolves at the door behind him.

Breathing relieved he heard that first yelp again, coming from the back of that room. Adjusting his eyes to the dim light he saw a huddled shape leaning against a corner of the wall. It was too big to be a puppy, and it was shaped like a human being curled up in a fetal position.

As Jaime hesitated in approaching to check who it was, the yelps suddenly became howls, similar to those outside the room, as the figure in front of him began to grow, muscles expanding and tearing the clothing, his size seeming to double. Jaime in desperation looked for another way out and found it next to the strange creature that was now panting amid the howls.

Creating courage he started to run again to that door, but when he turned the handle he realized that it was locked. Panicking, he turned and finally found what it was he had been looking at.

Before him was that new version of Jonathan Roberts, staring at him with a maniacal predator's grin, not far from a wolf's grimace. But this time it wasn't a howl coming out of his mouth when he opened it.

"Here's Johnny!" - He said in a perfect copy of Jack Nicholson. And just like Shelley Duvall Jaime screamed.

…..

"Mr. Sanchez, wake up, Mr. Sanchez." A female voice spoke to him at the same time as a hand shook his shoulders lightly.

"Ah, what…where am I?"

"I believe you fell asleep while reading Mr. Sanchez."

Jaime was in the library, but there were no wolves or homicidal colleagues around. Only Mrs. O'Malley, the old librarian and one of Dalton's few female employees, who was looking at him very reproachfully at the moment.

"I'm sorry Mrs. O'Malley I really lost track of time." - He said stretching the compact but powerful muscles of his arms and back, testing the limits of his shirt and making him feel at the same time pleasure and a feeling that there was something wrong with it, although he didn't know what.

Deciding to go after what he was sure was wrong, he decided to clear up some of his doubts with the source of information he had in front of him. He started with the easiest.

"Mrs. O'Malley, I'm sorry to bother you but where can I get a copy of The Shining or Doctor Sleep in the library?"

"Mr. Sanchez you don't bother me, as long as you promise me that this situation won't happen again. And unfortunately I can't help you, Dalton has an extensive collection of Mr. King's works, after all he is one of the great writers of our time and was born in New England, but curiously we don't own those two specific titles. I suggest you buy a digital book to read on one of those awful e-readers. - She said as if that was the most inappropriate thing in the world, even more than sleeping in her precious library - Or order a physical copy in the city of Dalton."

"How? If I'm stuck in here?" - He asked bitterly.

"I beg your pardon. You certainly aren't stuck in Dalton. Also, today is a free day if you want to go into town."

"Really?" - That could be his chance to run away, but did he really want that? Now that he knew what had happened to his classmates, that somehow they had been altered by some evil force. And wouldn't it be better for him to run away precisely because of that? The battle of conflicting thoughts was interrupted by the librarian who answered him curtly, probably still offended by his behavior.

"Perhaps you should pay more attention, but yes, today Dalton students are allowed to go into town, as long as they have a permission and car to go with." She replied making him go from joy to frustration, where would he get a car? Who would he hitchhike to? Deciding to deal with that later, he continued to dispel his doubts, adopting a rather smarmy tone of voice in an attempt to gain the old hag's goodwill.

"Mrs O'Malley I'm sorry if I made it sound like I'm not pleased to be at Dalton, nothing could be further from the truth than that. I'm very happy and honored to be here. And also for the help you've given me. I would also like to thank you for the books you got me, they helped me a lot. However, I still have a doubt and as you are probably the greatest holder of knowledge about Dalton, a true pillar of our community I would say, could you clarify it?" - He said with a bright smile appearing on his face almost as if it was second nature.

"Boy, thanks for the kind words but I've lived with generations of Dalton lads, don't think I don't know how to recognize a smarmy smile. But I congratulate you on the initiative, it's the kind of attitude Dalton Hartfield would have approved of. So yes, I'll help you with what I can."

It hit him like a blow, was he acting the way the others in Dalton acted, the way Dalton himself would have wanted him to act? But he needed to know more and if he had to use the enemy's weapons to get what he wanted, then he would.

"You hurt my feelings Mrs O'Malley, my words were not only kind but true. So, I read that Dalton Hartfield was buried on the school grounds, would you know the location?"

"I'm sorry lad, but it looks like all your kind words won't do you any good today. The exact location of Dalton Hartfield's grave is unknown and has been the subject of speculation over the last century, so neither I nor anyone else could help you with that. Unless..."

" Unless?"

"Well, one would assume that the Hartfield family might know something about it and choose not to share."

It made sense, because if what he thought was true was indeed true, the Hartfields wouldn't want anyone to know that location. He would have to take a risky step.

"Chadwick Hartfield certainly has a car, doesn't he?"

"Another question I can't answer, but it's completely beyond my purview, dear."

"I'm sorry Mrs O'Malley, I was thinking out loud. And you were a great help." - He replied smiling that bright smile, while thinking that the time had come for him to meet with the infamous Dalton's Crows Club.

#male tf #mind change #reality change #jockification #corruption #fratification

200 notes · View notes

visit-new-york · 1 year

Text

How many years did it take to build the Brooklyn Bridge?

The Brooklyn Bridge stands as an iconic symbol of New York City, connecting the boroughs of Manhattan and Brooklyn over the East River. Its majestic towers and intricate cable patterns have captivated the imagination of millions, but behind its grandeur lies a tale of determination, innovation, and unwavering perseverance. The question of how many years it took to build the Brooklyn Bridge unravels a narrative that spans more than a decade, marking an extraordinary chapter in the history of civil engineering.

Planning and Design:

The conceptualization and planning of the Brooklyn Bridge date back to the mid-19th century. In 1867, John A. Roebling, a renowned German-born civil engineer, envisioned a bridge that would unite the rapidly growing cities of Brooklyn and New York. Tragically, Roebling passed away in 1869 due to injuries sustained during a ferry accident, leaving the ambitious project in the hands of his son, Washington Roebling.

Construction Commences:

Construction officially began in 1870 under the supervision of Washington Roebling, who faced numerous challenges, including the treacherous waters of the East River and the need to accommodate the busy maritime traffic of the time. The construction process involved sinking caissons—large wooden boxes filled with compressed air—into the riverbed to create foundations for the massive towers.

However, the conditions within the caissons proved perilous. Workers faced dangers such as decompression sickness, commonly known as "the bends," due to the rapid change in pressure. Despite these hazards, construction persevered, and the towers began to rise.

The Great Cable Debate:

One of the most critical aspects of the Brooklyn Bridge's construction was the installation of its cables. Washington Roebling opted for a novel design, employing steel cables in lieu of the more common iron chains. This decision sparked a heated debate within the engineering community.

Ultimately, Roebling's vision prevailed, and the steel cables were employed, showcasing the innovative spirit that characterized the project. The cables, meticulously woven and anchored to the towers, served as the backbone of the bridge, supporting its vast expanse.

Inauguration and Legacy:

After 13 years of construction, the Brooklyn Bridge finally opened to the public on May 24, 1883. It was an extraordinary achievement, not only for its innovative design but also for the determination and resilience exhibited by those involved in its construction.

The Brooklyn Bridge quickly became a symbol of progress and connectivity, transforming the dynamics between Manhattan and Brooklyn. Its completion marked the longest suspension bridge in the world at the time and set new standards for engineering excellence.

Conclusion:

The question of how many years it took to build the Brooklyn Bridge unveils a remarkable tale of vision, dedication, and overcoming adversity. From the initial plans laid by John A. Roebling to the final completion under the stewardship of his son, Washington Roebling, the bridge stands as a testament to human ingenuity and the enduring spirit of those who dared to dream big. Today, as the Brooklyn Bridge continues to stand tall against the Manhattan skyline, it serves as a reminder of the extraordinary feats that can be accomplished through perseverance and innovation.

211 notes · View notes

random-brushstrokes · 6 months

Text

Thea Proctor (Australian, 1879-1966)

Alethea Mary Proctor's life as an artist encompassed more than half of the twentieth century. Born in Armidale in 1879 to parents who were soon to divorce, she weathered a disrupted childhood and a choppy education before beginning art study under Julian Ashton in Sydney when she was sixteen. At the Ashton school her fellow students included George Lambert, with whom she was to be closely associated in public and private over the next thirty years. In 1903, burning with a need to learn to draw, she travelled to London, where Lambert and his family were established. She became one of his favourite models, a regular in his household, and his pupil. Although she was desperately poor, her beauty and livery nature allowed her to meet many of the leading figures of the fin de siecle art world, and all her life she was to carry with her the modernist precepts and influences she absorbed from figures such as Clive Bell, spectacles such as the Ballets Russes and exhibitions such as the post-Impressionist show at the Grafton Galleries in 1910-11. Aside from a return to Australia in 1913-14, she was to remain in England throughout her twenties and thirties. Upon her return to Australia in 1921, which coincided with Lambert's, she immediately came to occupy a significant role in Sydney's volatile art world, and to disseminate her very strong ideas on modern art, interior decorating, fashion, costume, ballet and matters of taste in articles, lectures, formal classes, sketch clubs and at all conceivable social and artistic events. Strikingly beautiful, she never married, but supported herself into her eighties through art alone. She lived in a tiny rented flat in Double Bay, but until the early 1960s she was also able to maintain a studio in George Street, where she had lived before World War 2. In the inner city and the Eastern suburbs she became a familiar figure as immaculately dressed in brilliant purples, fuchsia and petunia shades she made her stately progress, parasol in gloved hand, seeking out the beautiful. (source)

The scenes of female intimacy in many of Proctor’s works have always been open to lesbian and queer readings. Women gaze intently at each other holding unfurled fans or proffering roses, symbols associated with female sexuality. Proctor moved in queer circles in Sydney in the 1920s and 1930s and was a valuable ally. JS MacDonald, the Art Gallery’s extremely conservative director from 1928 to 1936, wrote in 1934 of ‘the emergence of numbers of what the Americans call “pansies” … They rule the art world today, and, unless real painters speak up for themselves and right art, the women and their near-men abettors will ruin both.’ (source)

#women painters #thea proctor #australian art

70 notes · View notes

voxofthevoid · 8 months

Text

Ch 248 is once again a mixed bag for me. On the bright side, it has a development I've been looking forward to the most since Sukuna left Yuuji's body—Sukuna acknowledging the effect Yuuji has on him. Until now, he's mocked and belittled Yuuji, deeming him weak and boring, except that the specific brand of vitriol Sukuna reserves for Yuuji has made it very clear that his beef with Yuuji is a lot more personal than his conflict with any other character. There's a pettiness there, a kind of irritation that's borderline childish, that wouldn't be present if Yuuji didn't well and truly get under his skin.

So to see Sukuna take a moment in the middle of battle, complete with arms on his hips and a goddamn pout, to reassess himself, his ideology, and his enemies and their goals, all to figure out why Yuuji irritates him and then to see him conclude that it's because Yuuji has indomitable will that he can't stomp down? It's sweet, sweet vindication. Sukuna's immediate resolution to tear that will down with, again, a kind of personal vendetta we rarely see from him marks the exact kind of fight I want out of Yuuji vs. Sukuna.

And Yuuji himself has been a sight to behold despite his relatively fewer scenes so far, from his final moments with Higuruma to the reveal that he can use RCT. His greatest strengths so far have been how quickly he grasps CE usage and now attuned he is to his body. The two combined is what's made him so lethal despite the lack of a CT or even advanced techniques like simple domain. RCT fits quite neatly with the kind of power progression he's shown so far, and combined with his natural durability and sheer resilience, it'll make him even more of a monster.

These are elements I'm very happy with. However, this chapter confirms Kenjaku's end and sets up Sukuna as the final villain, and that's... underwhelming at best. I'm not complaining that Sukuna isn't a particularly complicated villain; it's refreshing and suits how he's presented himself from the beginning. But part of what compensated for one villain being like that was the other being a mad scientist with a pretty cunning mind who kept plotting and planning with every tool in their arsenal. You could trust Kenjaku to keep things interesting while they sought the chaos they dearly wanted, and even the merger coming from them would've had certain meaningful implications because not only is it a dream they strived to fulfil for centuries, but it's also a way to see them finally "let go" of Tengen after exhibiting some fascinating attachment behaviors with her. That authority passing on to Sukuna is about as impactful as Yuuta killing Kenjaku—that is, not at all.

The Yuuta+Rika vs. Sukuna fight that's currently being teased makes me wary for similar reasons. It lacks the buildup Gojou vs. Sukuna had (battle of the strongest, i.e., clash of two immense fucking egos), and another contest of raw power sounds about as appealing as watching paint dry right now. Maybe it'll surprise me, but I'm not holding my breath.

To compare this to Shibuya, the emotional component that made its climax so compelling is almost entirely missing from this fight. It's there in Yuuji facing off against someone who took Megumi and Gojou from him, like how he fought the curse that took Nanami and Nobara from him, but overall, the deaths feel hollow and the stakes are so impossibly high that they start to feel like nothing at all.

I can't even fully capture what I'm feeling. It's not that I'm not looking forward to the upcoming chapters; I am. It's not even that I think the plot and climax are unsalvageable; they are, to an extent. But by this point, the plot fumblings and wasted potential have added up to a looming shadow I can't ignore even when there are parts I'm genuinely excited about.

#jjk 248 #jjk leaks #jjk spoilers #jujutsu kaisen #ryomen sukuna #itadori yuuji

81 notes · View notes

my-darling-boy · 3 months

Note

As someone who does medieval reenactment in the US it was super interesting to read about how more modern reenactment across the pond works! Our group(s) tend to be much more casual and events not for the public’s viewing, and also fairly progressive relative to their area- I think the realization has come around to the older generation that they have to be actively inclusive to attract younger folks. Wishing all the best to you and other anon, I hope they can have a good time in the hobby!

If you’re interested in talking about it, could you tell us more about what it’s like to have the general public come to watch you reenact?

Oh that’s so interesting! I do forget there are events that go on not for public viewing. And I agree, I think people are realising if they want reenactments to continue, they need to be more open to the coming generations as they’ll be receiving the torch! What you say does help support one of my points too, that the further you reenact towards the 21st century, the more it strikes an emotional chord with hobbyists and spectators as both world wars are still very much in collective consciousness. People are still moved by stories and ceremonies (hell, even by seeing us in uniform!) because it’s not like this happened 800 years ago, it happened recently enough that there’s still people waiting for battlefield archaeologists to locate the remains of their grandparents from WWI. The pain and the loss are still very much alive, and for some people, especially older people, all of this felt like yesterday. It ties into the public viewings…

I’ve not done every sort of event reenactment has to offer, for me now it’s a lot of public training days with a variety of demonstrations, open period camps, and guided trench exhibitions. But having the public about makes it all the more meaningful? Living history is so important, it humanises people lumped together in textbooks. The stories that people share about the men you’re reenacting or their own parents/grandparents really are quite something. A few times we’ve done a little demonstration of wounded soldiers holding onto each other guided towards rushing nurses and crowds are absolutely captivated. A little girl once approached me and my pals to read a (surprisingly harrowing) letter she had to do for school about what it would be like to write home while in the trenches. Veterans of the regiment we do have watched us at events. Like in terms of medieval reenactment, imagine if you had children of warriors and townspeople watching you reenact members of their families that may have died horrifically barely 100 years ago, like, there’s almost a low-key emotional pressure to try to do as much justice as you can to the role over a little weekend!

I’ll have to get out to a medieval reenactment one day, haven’t been to one in a long time!

#also eeeeeeveryone takes photos #asks #wwi #reenactment

32 notes · View notes

communist-manifesto-daily · 1 month

Text

Socialism: Utopian and Scientific - Part 4

[ First | Prev | Table of Contents | Next ]

Thus Karl Marx wrote about the British origin of modern materialism. If Englishmen nowadays do not exactly relish the compliment he paid their ancestors, more's the pity. It is none the less undeniable that Bacon, Hobbes, and Locke are the fathers of that brilliant school of French materialism which made the 18th century, in spite of all battles on land and sea won over Frenchmen by Germans and Englishmen, a pre-eminently French century, even before that crowning French Revolution, the results of which we outsiders, in England as well as Germany, are still trying to acclimatize.

There is no denying it. About the middle of this century, what struck every cultivated foreigner who set up his residence in England, was what he was then bound to consider the religious bigotry and stupidity of the English respectable middle-class. We, at that time, were all materialists, or, at least, very advanced free-thinkers, and to us it appeared inconceivable that almost all educated people in England should believe in all sorts of impossible miracles, and that even geologists like Buckland and Mantell should contort the facts of their science so as not to clash too much with the myths of the book of Genesis; while, in order to find people who dared to use their own intellectual faculties with regard to religious matters, you had to go amongst the uneducated, the "great unwashed", as they were then called, the working people, especially the Owenite Socialists.

But England has been "civilized" since then. The exhibition of 1851 sounded the knell of English insular exclusiveness. England became gradually internationalized, in diet, in manners, in ideas; so much so that I begin to wish that some English manners and customs had made as much headway on the Continent as other Continental habits have made here. Anyhow, the introduction and spread of salad-oil (before 1851 known only to the aristocracy) has been accompanied by a fatal spread of Continental scepticism in matters religious, and it has come to this, that agnosticism, though not yet considered "the thing" quite as much as the Church of England, is yet very nearly on a par, as far as respectability goes, with Baptism, and decidedly ranks above the Salvation Army. And I cannot help believing that under those circumstances it will be consoling to many who sincerely regret and condemn this progress of infidelity to learn that these "new-fangled notions" are not of foreign origin, are not "made in Germany", like so many other articles of daily use, but are undoubtedly Old English, and that their British originators 200 years ago went a good deal further than their descendants now dare to venture.

What, indeed, is agnosticism but, to use an expressive Lancashire term, "shamefaced" materialism? The agnostic's conception of Nature is materialistic throughout. The entire natural world is governed by law, and absolutely excludes the intervention of action from without. But, he adds, we have no means either of ascertaining or of disproving the existence of some Supreme Being beyond the known universe. Now, this might hold good at the time when Laplace, to Napoleon's question, why, in the great astronomer's Treatise on Celestial Mechanics, the Creator was not even mentioned, proudly replied: "I had no need of this hypothesis." But, nowadays, in our evolutionary conception of the universe, there is absolutely no room for either a Creator or a Ruler; and to talk of a Supreme Being shut out from the whole existing world, implies a contradiction in terms, and, as it seems to me, a gratuitous insult to the feelings of religious people.

[ First | Prev | Table of Contents | Next ]

#socialism: utopian and scientific #communist manifesto daily #friedrich engels

25 notes · View notes

thefrogdalorian · 8 months

Text

The Best of Both Worlds - Chapter Seven

Din Djarin x Female Reader Modern!AU

❁ Series Masterlist ❁ My Masterlist ❁ Read on AO3 ❁

Word Count: 9456 Rating: General Summary: Despite feeling certain that you'll never see the ridiculously handsome man you gave a tour of the museum to, a special delivery is about to change everything... Content Warnings: Brief description of anxiety, reader feels a bit anxious in a crowded area. Author's Note: Big thanks once again to my amazing beta @suresnips!! I appreciate your feedback so much 💕 The slow burn is certainly slow burning. When I started posting this I was wondering whether I should tag it as slowburn which is ridiculous because 54k words in and they're still like THIS AUGHBSGJD just KISS you idiots! Anyway, really hope you enjoyed this one. I had a blast writing it. This is the last chapter I'd edited while writing, so updates might slow down a bit to once (but hopefully twice) per week now. Thanks for reading, I'd love to know if you're enjoying it so far!!

6. You're The Sunflower [Reader's POV]

You were under no illusions that the odds of seeing Din again were slim to none, but no matter how hard you tried, you had not been able to stop thinking about him. Ever since you had given him a tour of the museum on Friday night, you had been unable to shake the memory of how incredible you had felt in his presence. Of course, you were instantly attracted to him and felt the spark when the two of you shook hands. Plus, there was that look on his face when he referred to the beauty of the exhibits as he gazed at you. You had been unable to get the way his eyes had softened as he looked at you from your mind, no matter how hard you tried.

Work brought you no relief. Everywhere you went, you were reminded of him. Any time you had to leave your office work behind to face the public, you were barely able to focus on giving the various groups that you had been entrusted with a proper tour. You kept looking out for the patient brown eyes and dark curls that had left an imprint on your mind after such a short amount of time. Several times your heart leapt when you thought you saw a man with just the right physique and height, with similar brown curls. But then his head would turn and your hopes would be dashed. Unfortunately, there were so many visitors to the museum each day that these moments were all too frequent, delivering a crushing blow each time.

It was ridiculous, pining over Din and looking out for him like this. You were under no illusions to the fact that you would never see him again. The time you had spent together that evening as you gave him a tour of the museum was lovely. In another life, perhaps the two of you would have been able to explore the genuine connection. But in this life: this was it. Your paths were never going to cross again. It was utterly ridiculous to think otherwise, no matter how much you ached to see him again. You just had a little crush on an attractive older guy. You would forget about him before too long.

Fortunately, today you had no tours scheduled. You were tasked with cataloguing some of the museum’s extensive archival collection. Specifically, seventh-century Chinese pottery. Although sometimes you found such work dull, you appreciated that everything had an order to it and a system to be filed under. Once it was completed, it would be incredibly satisfying. So you had thrown yourself into such work, partly borne out of a desire to see it completed but mostly, if you were honest, to distract yourself from the kind brown eyes of a man you would never see again.

The task was going well and you were making storming progress, especially considering that it was only mid-morning. That was until the familiar presence of your manager, Julie, entered the office and disturbed your peace. The sound of a heavy object being placed on the desk with a thud, caused you to look up.

It was perhaps the biggest bunch of flowers you had ever seen, in an ornate vase with stunning patterns running the length of the glass. You could tell, just by looking at it, that it was a luxurious bouquet that had presumably set back whoever bought it several hundred pounds. Your heart skipped a beat. There was no way these could be for you.

When your racing mind finally focused on the flowers, your jaw dropped as you realised exactly what they were. With their tall, green stems and bright yellow petals, they were unmistakably sunflowers.

As you sat there, aghast at the beautiful bouquet before you, Julie finally offered an explanation: “These came in from a flower shop this morning. The delivery guy said your name. I have no idea who they’re from and trust me, I had quite a battle to get them through security. Luckily a guy called Mo vouched for you. Maybe the card makes sense to you.” Julie said, winking at you as she walked away, leaving you sitting there at your desk, mouth hanging open.

Surely it couldn’t be… from him?

You noticed the little golden card nestled in amongst the sunflowers, with trembling hands you brought it towards your face so that you could see who the flowers were from. On it, the neat black handwriting read:

Let’s show the kid a real rhino. Meet me at the gates of London Zoo.

Saturday, 11:30 am.

– D

When you saw the single letter at the bottom of the card, you almost fell backwards off your chair onto the hard wooden floor below. It was from him. You felt your skin warming furiously as you read the message. Then, you read it again to make sure that you weren't dreaming. This surely had to be a joke, right?! An elaborate scheme to poke fun at you.

But that was ridiculous, apart from Ria, who was in a different country, and Mo, who had no idea of your affection for Din, no one had any idea that the two of you had interacted. Plus, given the evident expense of such flowers, it was unlikely someone would squander such an enormous sum on playing a prank. So with all possibilities of a prank ruled out… you finally allowed yourself to believe that this was real. That Din wanted to see you again as much as you wanted to see him. He had felt the spark too and now the two of you would meet again in just a few days.

You were in complete and utter disbelief that this was real. That there was a possibility that Din felt the same way about you. That, he too, held that same curiosity towards you; that pull that made you want to get to know him better. How, though, could someone like him possibly feel this way about someone like… you?

Julie inched back into the room, clearly having kept her distance from you to allow you to process the flowers and the note. You suddenly panicked and wondered whether she had read the note, and was coming back here to reprimand you for using your job to potentially start a relationship with a visitor. You reasoned that even if she had read the note, Din had left it deliberately vague with just his initial. She would never guess it was the man you had shown around this very museum only a few days previously.

“I won’t pry,” Julie said with a smile on her face. “But whoever sent those must really care about you.”

You let out a deep sigh of relief. Julie’s demeanour proved that she was anything but mad at you. Fortunately, you and Julie had always gotten along. Unlike some of the other managers at the museum who would have hit the roof if one of their employees had been delivered such a bouquet in the middle of the day, she had been nothing kind to you. She was a couple of decades older than you and she reminded you of a family friend from your childhood. You had leant on her for advice when you had first moved to the big city.

“I think so.” You squeaked, feeling your skin burning up in embarrassment.

“Well, I’m happy for you,” Julie said, placing a comforting hand on your shoulder. “I wish nothing but the best for you. If you want to take your lunch slightly earlier and head off now, you’re welcome to.”

“Thanks, Julie.” You said appreciatively.

Budget cuts and constraints meant that sometimes the museum was understaffed and you were overworked, but Julie was always firm yet fair on the staff. She was great at getting the best out of her employees, she knew who needed to be micromanaged and who could work just as productively while being left to their own devices. You fell firmly in the second category, much preferring to be left to your own thing. And now, Julie could sense that the arrival of a large bouquet and card would send your productivity levels plunging unless you got to take yourself off and have some time to process it.

Your phone was in your hand before you had even left the museum, you were rapidly firing off texts to Ria. It would be early morning for her, but you knew she should be awake for classes and you hoped she was there to help cease the trembling in your body that had overcome you since the arrival of the flowers on your desk.

[ilovemando] 11:37: RIAAAAA!!!!! remember din, the hot guy i showed around the museum with his son?? He fucking sent a bouquet of SUNFLOWERS to my work and said to meet him on saturday at the gates of the zoo i told him about and recommended him to visit with his kid???

[thisistheslay] 11:40: OMG WHAT!?!? FLOWERS TO YOUR DESK!!! THIS SOUNDS LIKE SOMETHING FROM A FANFIC I CAN’T BREATHE????

[ilovemando] 11:42 I KNOW. i was sure it was just my colleague pranking me but no, my manager confirmed it was hand-delivered by a flower shop this morning. and not any flower shop either, this one is like insanely london fancy. i’m just a peasant. i can’t believe this….. this kind of thing doesn’t happen to me!!

[thisistheslay] 11:45: Well, looks like it is happening to you, bestie. I’m so happy for you. What were the flowers like?

[ilovemando] 11:47: he got me sunflowers :’) after i told him van gogh was my favourite painter and i loved that piece. i can’t fucking breathe, honestly. my manager let me get lunch early and i have no idea how i’m going to eat let alone FUNCTION until saturday omg help me

[ilovemando] 11:50: but the thing is idk if it’s a date bc his kid is coming??? ahhhhh i dont wanna assume too much, maybe he just wants to be friends

You placed your phone back in your pocket as you found a place to sit in the park. Since the amount of money you had splurged on Mando merch at ForceCon, you had been forcing yourself to bring packed lunches to work in a bid to save money. It had mostly worked and you found that as the weather was improving, there was no greater delight than sitting outside in the park next to the museum and enjoying your lunch as you watched the world go by.

Once you had found an available bench, conveniently located underneath the tall trees that lined the edge of the park which partially protected you from the sun that was beating down as midday approached, you took your phone out and were relieved to see Ria had immediately texted you back. Your head had been swimming with possibilities over whether Din also viewed this as a date and you were eager to get a rational, outsider’s perspective.

[thisistheslay] 11:53: I mean, if a guy was sending a fancy bouquet of sunflowers to MY desk, I would absolutely take that romantically. Maybe he just can’t leave his kid with someone and that’s why he’s coming, I wouldn’t take that as a bad thing necessarily.

You read Ria’s message and felt your stomach flutter with butterflies once again as she reminded you of what had just happened. Din had sent you flowers. At your desk. Not just any flowers, either. Flowers that were in a piece of art you adored, that your favourite painter had created. Din had remembered that little detail about you, despite you only mentioning it in passing.

You shook your head and placed your phone in your pocket. You’d reply to Ria later. For now, you needed to eat your lunch and collect your thoughts so you could regain your composure and make progress on the task that you needed to complete at work that afternoon.

When you returned to work after your lunch break, however, you found that it was a struggle to focus on carrying out important archival research when an insanely hot older guy that you had an enormous crush on had indicated that he wanted to see you again. Not only did he want to see you again, but he had enlisted a fancy London florist to deliver your favourite flowers, a detail that he had remembered from a brief comment, no less. It was probably the most romantic thing anyone had done for you, which was not exactly difficult. There had been a sad lack of romance in your life over recent years, aside from the Mando fanfics you had consumed each night before bed. Traditional books had fallen somewhat by the wayside when you were at University, but you found that you still had a voracious appetite for reading. Especially when it came to consuming stories where you were the object of Mando’s affections.

Work kept you so busy that you found yourself quite content to be single as it meant that your downtime was yours and yours alone. Plus, adjusting to living in a new city – especially a city as massive as London – had already been difficult enough, without introducing romance into that. Yet it appeared that when you had least been looking for it, a potential love story had fallen right into your lap. It was quite remarkable timing.

Your state of mind did not improve over the next few days. It was a struggle to maintain your composure for the rest of the week and focus on your tasks. Luckily, you had been moved to have a less public-facing role as you stayed behind the scenes in the offices, working on the extensive archives. Luckily, Julie had known exactly how to deal with the situation and had understood, perhaps even before you, that you were in no position to face visitors when your thoughts lay firmly elsewhere.

Mercifully, with the help of some colleagues and a little bit of overtime, you completed the project on Friday afternoon, as planned. The relief and sense of achievement were immense, it had been no small undertaking to catalogue seventh-century Chinese pottery pretty much all on your own. You practically galloped out of work, excited for the weekend that lay ahead and in particular, to see Din again.

Despite your eagerness to leave work, you still took your time heading home, stopping for noodles at your favourite noodle shop on the way. You timed it just right so that you missed the main rush of commuters who were leaving London to return home and everyone else who was coming into London for a night out. You had had your fun in clubs and bars in the past, but you always felt ancient watching people heading for their nights out in skimpy clothes. There were a few of them, swigging from cans on the platform and laughing and chattering so loudly that you turned your headphones up to their maximum volume.

You did not begrudge them having a good time, but to you, it all just looked so uncomfortable. Rather than wearing uncomfortable clothing and cramming into overpriced bars to listen to awful music, you wanted to go home and sloth out on the couch in front of an episode of Mando. Although you had barely finished your last rewatch, you had just started another one. Despite how occupied your mind had been recently, it felt wrong somehow to not have a Mandalorian rewatch ongoing.

Lounging around on the couch in front of The Mandalorian was precisely how you spent your Friday night. With your comfortable pyjamas and facemask on, you felt somewhat relaxed, despite the churning that would commence in your stomach every time you thought about the prospect of seeing Din again tomorrow.

Although you were excited, you were also incredibly nervous. You wanted to make a good impression and hoped that the chemistry that had been there during the tour carried over to your day out at the zoo. But there were so many things to consider, questions to ask yourself about the whole situation. You found yourself dwelling on whether he viewed this as a date. You knew that you certainly wanted it to be one and sending such an extravagent bouquet probably indicated that there was at least some romantic intention there. But perhaps Din viewed going to the zoo to show Grogu a rhino as a purely platonic outing. You remained unsure of how to take it.

In addition, you were agonising over what to wear. You had triple, no quadruple checked your outfit for the zoo day out with Din. You fretted over how to style your hair, sending several shots to the groupchat to ask for their advice. As much as the groupchat had been helpful, you wished they had been physically present. There was just something about having people close that you couldn’t replicate online. Facetime and voice chats were helpful but you wished you had Ria by your side on the couch, giggling over the stupid goo facemasks you were slapping on your faces as you watched another episode of Mando. But Ria, and the rest of your friends, were thousands of miles away. You were all alone. Well, except for Mando, of course.

After finishing a steaming cup of your favourite herbal tea, you eventually turned in before midnight as you wanted to get up early to give yourself plenty of time. You were probably going to end up being at the zoo ridiculously early, but under no circumstances did you want to leave Din hanging, especially considering that you did not have his number. All you had was a time and a place to be. You were going to be there.

Despite how exhausting your week had been, sleep did not come easily. You tossed and turned, thinking about what tomorrow would bring. It was quite a turnaround of events, to go from believing that you would never see someone again to being only hours from facing them again. Nerves and excitement bubbled away in your stomach as you lay there, picturing the kind brown eyes and that crooked smile that you knew you were only hours away from seeing again…

The familiar tones of The Mandalorian’s theme song roused you from sleep at eight the following morning. You were a bundle of nerves and excitement, feeling as though your skin was tingling all over. As you lay there and slowly blinked your tired eyes open, you found yourself grinning from ear to ear as you remembered that you were awake so early on the weekend because the man whom you were incredibly attracted to wanted to see you again.

You knew there had been an undeniable spark between you and Din that evening at the museum. But you had doubted yourself and eventually convinced yourself that you were being delusional. How could he ever be interested in you? Din was just a polite, kind man, nothing more. How wrong you had been. Now, you were getting yourself ready to see him again.

Well, getting ready was yet to happen. First, you had to watch an episode of Mando as you ate your breakfast. It was a crutch you leaned on during times of great stress. If there was a big life event taking place, chances were that you had watched an episode of The Mandalorian at some point in the build-up to it. People leaned on all kinds of things, it just happened that yours was a sci-fi show that brought you an immense amount of joy. You might have been a little embarrassed about relying on it so heavily but, ultimately, you weren’t hurting anyone else with your hobby. You were proud that Mando had helped you through so much.

With your episode and breakfast finished, it was time to get ready. You had already agonised over the outfit for hours last night. However, in the early morning light, you doubted whether you looked good enough. You wanted to be comfortable considering how much walking you were sure to do, while also making an effort to impress Din. You ended up swapping out the skirt you had planned to wear for a pair of black and white striped cotton pants that were wide-legged enough to be cool in the summer. As you left your flat and headed to the station to make your way into London, you were glad for your last-minute outfit change. The thought of getting onto a busy transport network with all the grime and dirt of fellow passengers while wearing a skirt felt disgusting, somehow.

It was Saturday morning on the tube and mercifully, it wasn’t too busy. You were well accustomed to most routes by now and could use the tube with your eyes closed, if necessary. Today, however, you were so nervous that you felt yourself second-guessing your every move. Doubting whether you were heading in the right direction or on the right line and whether your tube would arrive at the zoo in time.

Fortunately, you remembered to bring your headphones, so you at least had the Mando soundtrack to keep you company. For a few minutes on the tube, you weren’t on an underground system hurtling underneath the streets of London at all. No, you were on a hyperloop pod on Coruscant, zooming along with Mando like you had seen him do several times in the show in pursuit of his most recent bounty.

As strange as it probably sounded to anyone who did not love the show as much as you did, when you listened to the music you felt as though some of Mando’s certainty in himself and the confident way he carried himself was somehow being transferred to you. You loved Mando for many reasons, but one of them was how much you looked up to him and admired him as a person. He had many characteristics that you only wished you could possess yourself. You truly felt as though he was someone you aspired to be, even if he was fictional.

You were so caught up in your fantasies, that you almost missed your stop. But fortunately, you realised in time and scrambled for the door. You glanced down at your watch and realised that you were pretty early, it was not even eleven yet. So, you decided to grab a coffee just outside the tube station so you wouldn’t be standing there at the zoo, looking like a little lost puppy. Plus, weren’t you meant to be fashionably late to dates? Or whatever this was? Wasn’t that a thing people did?

The coffee shop you selected was a bit pretentious and hipster for your taste. You had no desire to order an oat milk two pump caramel chai latte macchiato or whatever it was that people who used a lot of beard cream ordered. So you just settled on a regular cappuccino, which came with a slightly judgmental look from the barista. With your order in hand, you settled down on a comfortable seat by the window in the corner of the shop and took out your phone, firing off a message to Ria.

[ilovemando] 10:49 - ik ur probably asleep now but i’m about to go to the date with din and im so nervous aaah. he’s so hot and i feel like im going to make a massive idiot out of myself. currently drowning myself in coffee. not sure it’ll help my nerves. text me when you wake up!!

Of course, Ria didn’t respond straight away. It was not even six for her and you gathered she was asleep like any normal human would be on a Saturday. With no internet friend to calm your nerves, you instead decided to pass the time by watching the people of London pass by your window. Usually, on a Saturday morning like this, you would be nowhere near the centre of the city, preferring to keep to your quieter neighbourhood. It was a treat to sit and watch people going about their business, young and old, families and alone. You felt as though you were seeing a real slice of life outside that window.

You liked being a wallflower, a quiet observer. You used to spend more time out and about before the pandemic but after everything had locked down you realised you didn’t like people that much, as harsh as that may sound. No, since those times you much preferred to spend your time inside, watching Mando or talking to your friends. So it was strange to be out on a Saturday morning in this part of the city, watching the world go by. The longer you sat there, you found that you didn’t hate it as much as you thought you would. It was a nice change of scenery.

After a few minutes and drinking half of your cappuccino, you turned your attention inside the coffee shop. You noticed that there were plenty of couples here in this coffee shop, staring at each other affectionately from across the table, their hands clasped around their steaming mugs. It made your heart soar a little in hope, wondering whether those looks and these lazy mornings lay in your future with Din. Maybe you should do this more often. Maybe you and Din could come for a coffee here sometime.

Din, you thought with a start.

Thinking of him made you realise that you had completely lost track of time. It was now twenty past eleven and the Zoo was around a fifteen-minute walk away. You cursed yourself under your breath, you were always prone to daydreaming and could get so easily distracted sometimes, lost inside your own head. You had intended to be on time, maybe even early, to avoid giving any kind of impression that you weren’t eager to see Din again. Yet, now, to ensure that you would have to arrive there a sweaty mess, you would have to speed-walk to the zoo.

Fortunately, you still had your headphones on and you switched to an upbeat playlist, soon falling into step with the fast guitar and drumbeat as you headed to the zoo. The streets were beginning to get busier now and your earlier musings about enjoying being in the city for a change were long forgotten, replaced by a general disdain for the human race. But then you remembered where you were going and who you were meeting. You couldn't help but feel a smile creep across your face. A smile that only got wider when you approached the zoo gates and you saw a familiar figure standing there, waiting for you.

You felt yourself instantly lighten as you noticed him. A stupid, insecure part of your brain had worried that you had somehow misinterpreted things and he wasn’t going to be there. But sure enough, Din was standing right outside the gates with Grogu nestled in his arms. They were facing away from you but it allowed you to appreciate how broad Din’s shoulders looked from the back as you approached him. You were equally delighted to see the sweet little boy again as you were to see his father. After all, if Grogu had not been so drawn to Dürer’s rhino, perhaps the three of you would not be here together now.

As you approached him, you appraised Din’s outfit. He was dressed in a grey knitted cardigan with a dark turtleneck underneath it and a similar pair of dark brown trousers to those he had worn at the museum. You noticed Din was wearing his trusty brown boots once again. You thought he was a bit overdressed considering it was almost July, but British summer was typically not the warmest, so perhaps he had got it just right. Grogu was wearing a light green, short-sleeved t-shirt and a pair of brown trousers. His curly hair was sticking up at all ends and you thought he looked thoroughly adorable.

You were only a few feet away from Din now, but he still hadn’t spotted you. You weren’t quite sure how to play it – should you tap him on the shoulder? But you decided against that, you didn’t want to startle him with Grogu in his arms.

“Hi, Din,” you said quietly. Din turned around abruptly to face you as if your presence had startled him.

“You came!” Din said, his face suddenly lighting up, eyes crinkling in joy. The wrinkles beside his eyes were suddenly visible, a visual reminder that he was slightly older than you. But the reminder of his age did not make him look any less attractive. Din looked distinguished and handsome.

“Of course I came! Thank you for the flowers and suggestion to meet here. I loved them, it was very thoughtful of you to remember that I mentioned loving Van Gogh’s sunflowers,” you replied, voice shaking slightly with nerves.

“I’m glad you liked the flowers and didn’t find it, uh, creepy,” Din said nervously, placing his hand on the back of his neck again like he had done the first time you had met him in the museum. It was an adorable, bashful, mannerism that you adored.

“Of course not,” you smiled. “It was incredibly thoughtful of you. I’m so happy that you found a way to stay in touch.”

“Me too,” Din whispered, his eyes shimmering with an emotion that you could not quite place. Then he shook his head slightly and remembered the child that he was holding in his arms. “I hope you don’t mind me bringing Grogu along. But, like I said, wherever I go… he goes. And I believe you originally suggested the zoo because of his love for animals, so it wouldn’t have felt right to come here without him.”

“Of course it’s fine, Din,” You smiled. “Hi Grogu!” You beamed, giving a little wave to the little boy with the big brown eyes.

Grogu returned the smile, you were pleased to see that he seemed a lot calmer than he had at the museum. You saw Din visibly relax as you were fine with his son’s presence.

“It’s so good to see you again,” Din breathed. “I was nervous that you weren’t going to show up,” he admitted shyly.

“How could I refuse an invitation to a Zoo?” You questioned with a smile.

“Really, you don’t get sick of something like this after working at a museum all week?” Din said, raising one eyebrow at you.

“Absolutely not! Well, a zoo is a bit different to a museum but either way, I always loved them since I was Grogu’s age. I was always the straggler during any school trip to a zoo or museum when I was younger. I could have spent hours there,” You began, but shook your head, realising that you were probably rambling. “But enough about me, why don’t we head inside and find those rhinos that I promised were here and that this little one would love?” You beamed, suddenly self-conscious that you were oversharing again.

Din did not seem to mind though. He seemed to enjoy your tangential little rants. Of course, a few days ago he had been a paying customer for them. Now it was just the two of you, and you were painfully aware that they could be annoying to certain people. Not everyone shared the boundless enthusiasm you held for things that you were passionate about. Not everyone found it sweet and endearing. You had learnt the hard way that people could be profoundly annoyed by your enthusiasm and did not understand that you were not trying to make them feel bad. But those judgmental people were far in the past now.

It had taken a lot of time and a lot of hurt, but you had learnt the hard way that hiding parts of yourself was incredibly draining and only caused you more heartache and pain in the long term. So, with Din, you determined that things would be different. You were going to be nothing but one hundred per cent honest with him. After all, he wouldn’t have gone to all the trouble of picking out the flowers that you had mentioned just in passing if he didn’t like you on some level. It was time to be yourself and let Din see you for who you truly were.

That time had apparently come sooner than you were anticipating. As you made your way inside the zoo, you were suddenly getting the same vibe you had gotten at ForceCon. Where too many people were crammed into an impossibly small space, making things incredibly crowded. It was slightly panic-inducing, but you resolved to try and remain calm. Unfortunately, you did not have a comforting internet friend and a convenient staircase to hide under. It was far busier than you were anticipating. You usually visited the zoo when you had a half day off or on a Sunday afternoon when it seemed to be quieter. Since the weather had improved and it was a Saturday, though, it should have come as no surprise to see the zoo this busy.

Although you did not have Ria at your side, you were not completely alone. You glanced over at Din and instantly felt a rush of adrenaline course through your body. He looked so handsome, his strong side profile and beautiful nose silhouetted against the crowds of busy people. With his broad shoulders and looming presence, a feeling of calmness and security washed over you. Maybe if you had had him to ogle when you had been making your way through the crowds at ForceCon, you would have handled it better, you thought with a smirk.

That momentary relief was fleeting, though. The crowds did not cease, you found that same sensation of being swept away gnawing away in your gut that you had at the convention. But, you reasoned, you had handled that then, just like you would handle this now.

“Are you alright?” Din said, suddenly noticing that you looked slightly uncomfortable. You momentarily cringed, feeling self-conscious that he had noticed how much you were struggling.

“I’m fine, just not a huge fan of crowds,” you admitted with a slight grimace. “It’ll be fine once we clear out of the entrance though and get on the paths to one of the enclosures. Actually, I think the rhinos are right at the back where hopefully not many people will head straight away. Maybe we could go there first, work against the crowds?”

Din agreed with your suggestion and was content to let you lead the way. The three of you headed down a path that seemed to be in the correct direction of where the rhinos were. It seemed like you were walking the same way as the crowds for a little while. You feared for a second that perhaps, everyone had the same idea as you to head to the back of the zoo first.

Eventually, the tide seemed to turn and more people began heading down the narrow path towards you. You had to squeeze in and get close to Din. You inhaled sharply at the way your skin tingled as you brushed shoulders with him. It was ridiculous that such a light touch, through a shirt, could set your entire body on fire like that.

Then something bizarre happened. As you moved in to let the latest family pass, you noticed that Grogu was pointing at a young boy. You wondered for a second if they were perhaps friends, but when you looked a little closer you noticed the boy was wearing a shirt with Mando’s helmet on it. What a coincidence! You wondered if perhaps Grogu was a fan of the show. After all, despite its violent elements, it was surprisingly popular with kids. The comment Din had made in the museum about Grogu liking armour came to mind, too.

You were about to ask Din whether he and Grogu had watched The Mandalorian, but you noticed a strange look suddenly sweep across his features. It seemed to you as if he wanted this family to move past you as quickly as possible. Din sped up and hurriedly walked a few paces ahead of you further up the path, clearly eager to get away from the child as quickly as possible. You frowned slightly and followed him, wondering what precisely it was about the tiny interaction that had spooked him so much. You didn’t question Din on his actions or push for answers. You guessed that he was just a little nervous with Grogu in the crowd. After all, the kid had a habit of running off which you were all too familiar with following his antics in the museum the previous week.

Fortunately, you did not have too long to dwell on the interaction as the path came to an end and you soon found yourselves at the edge of the rhino enclosure. Din picked Grogu up, lifting the little boy so he could take in the sights of the animals over the wire fences that bordered the enclosure.

“See, Grogu?” Din said, pointing in the direction of the beasts. “It’s the same animal we saw in that artwork the other day at the museum, a rhinoceros!”

Grogu chirped in delight, bringing his hands together in glee. The child seemed happy to be here, to be spending time with both of you. He was delighted, as he took in the fact that the same animal that he had seen in picture form a few days ago, was now here before him. Grogu could not convey it in words, but you were sure that he was delighted that you and Din had gone to the trouble of bringing him here.

You looked over at Din too, finding that he was equally enthralled by the rhinos, his brown eyes wide in awe as he watched them pace throughout the enclosure. It was sweet to see whatever stress that Din had endured after Grogu had been so drawn towards that Mando shirt, slowly releasing as he gazed at the magnificent, otherworldly beasts.

You were still curious about Din’s adverse reaction to a seemingly innocent t-shirt. Perhaps Din just really hated that show, you reasoned. Pop culture was a topic that you had not really broached with Din thus far. You were a little afraid that your references might draw blanks from him given your slight age gap. Din being slightly older than you didn’t bother you and you felt as though there was no real power imbalance between the two of you. Plus, you loved how respectful and caring he was, in a way that guys your age were not.

As you and Din stood there admiring the rhinos, you found yourself mesmerised by the power of the beasts; the way their firm, coarse skin rippled as they took steps through the mud. It broke your heart to think that these creatures were poached for their horns and that some species were now critically endangered. Seeing them before you, they did not look real somehow. It was as though they were not from this universe and had fallen to Earth by mistake, one day. The rhinos looked like they did not belong here. In a way, you sympathised with them.

Despite the fact you were here with Din, you found that your mind inevitably drifted back to Mando. You thought it was amusing in a way that Grogu had been so drawn towards rhinoceroses. They reminded you of the fictional creature in Star Wars, the mudhorn, that Mando wore on his pauldron. He had managed to slay one against all odds to get its egg and keep a group of unruly Jawas at bay. You remembered watching in awe as Mando used his cunning and strength to outwit the helpless creature. The rhinoceros was probably the closest thing to a mudhorn on this earth. It was an amusing coincidence, especially with Grogu’s attraction to the Mando shirt.

After a few more minutes of gazing upon these magnificent creatures, you decided to leave the rhinos behind and head elsewhere in the zoo. Din had told you that in addition to rhinos, Grogu also liked frogs, so you headed towards the building that housed them. It was a magnificent brick building, with an ornate arch over the doorway. There were also plenty of windows to ensure that the reptiles inside were bathed in natural light. Unfortunately, it was also incredibly hot and humid inside, another measure necessary to keep the little creatures safe. You felt yourself beginning to clam up, both at the temperature change and the number of people crammed into this building. But then you looked at Grogu, his little face full of wonder as the three of you came to a halt in front of a large tank containing frogs, and your heart soared at the sight of him so excited.

You moved to continue walking further around the Reptile House, but the sound of Din calling your name stopped you in your tracks. Grogu had forced his father to stop in front of one of the tanks and was practically squirming out of Din’s arms. The mischievous little boy tapped his small chubby hands onto the glass insistently, looking at the frogs almost as though he wanted to eat them. The kid loved frogs just as much as he loved the carving of the rhino, it seemed. You watched them with a smirk on your face, admiring the sweet scene before you. Well, it was mostly sweet, Grogu was undeniably being a bit of a menace. No matter how much Din tried to tell him that he wasn’t going to be able to touch the frogs, it seemed that the little boy could not handle that fact. He was devastated by the reality that the frogs were going to remain on the other side of the glass, out of his hands.

You usually disliked small children, their wailing and constant need for attention irked you. Despite your usual disdain for children, you found it was impossible not to like Grogu. He was a cute kid, a complete charmer and, for the most part, very well-behaved. He had listened patiently to you at the museum the other day and had been exceedingly well-behaved on this trip to the zoo thus far. But it seemed that the frogs had pushed him over the edge. His bottom lip jutted out, beginning to pout. And then the wailing began. It was a terrible sound, one that was almost painful to your ears. You looked over to Din in panic, he had already gathered his son up in his arms and was pressing him against his shoulder in an attempt to console him. But nothing was working; the kid would not stop crying.

“Shhhh, Grogu, shhhhh,” Din said, pleading as the toddler’s temper tantrum began to turn more than a few heads. “Sorry about this… I think it might be best if we head outside.”

“It’s fine Din.” You nodded and let him lead the way.

Despite how busy the exhibit was, when a person had a wailing toddler in their arms, the crowds just parted instantly, without question or hesitation. You smirked as Din made his way through the crowd, mumbling ‘sorry’ and ‘excuse me’ with a frequency that any Brit would be proud of. You finally made it outside, blinking in the light. Din swung Grogu off his shoulder and looked at his son, caressing his cheek with his thumb, wiping the tears that were staining his chubby cheeks. You were in awe at the calmness and speed with which Din had approached the situation, undaunted by a wailing toddler which was, to you, a terrifying prospect. He was a natural at fatherhood, that much was obvious.

“Alright, pal. We’re out of there now. Please calm down, Grogu,” Din pleaded, looking nervously around at the nosy onlookers.

You could tell that he was embarrassed and you felt incredibly sorry for him. After all, there was nothing to be ashamed about. Grogu was just a little boy, he didn’t understand that he couldn’t hold the frogs. You decided to step towards them and hopefully offer some words of comfort.

“Hey little guy, what’s the matter?” you asked, concernedly. “I know you love frogs, I really do… but you can’t touch them, Grogu. They have to stay in their tanks so they’re nice and warm. It keeps them safe and protects them. Just like you feel protected when you’re in your dad’s arms,” you smiled, hoping that your words were cutting through to the tearful little boy. Grogu stopped wailing and titled his head to the side, as though he was trying to process the new information you had given him and make his mind up whether it was agreeable.

“That’s right, we wouldn’t want anything to happen to the frogs, would we?” Din joined in, nodding at you appreciatively for your intervention.

Grogu was still for a few moments but then began furiously shaking his head. It seemed that yours and Din’s kind words had finally gotten through to him.

“Good boy! That’s it, Grogu, well done for understanding why you can’t touch them,” Din said proudly.

“Well, you can’t touch those frogs, Grogu. But perhaps we can head to the gift shop on the way out and there might be a frog toy there for you?” You offered with a smile, hoping that Din was okay with such an offer.

Din nodded, seemingly approving of your suggestion and you felt relieved that you had not overstepped your boundaries. Thanks to yours and Din’s soothing words, Grogu soon calmed down. Now that you did not have a crying toddler to contend with, you turned around and noticed that you were standing by a play area that was currently deserted of any children. You laid eyes upon the swingset that was currently empty, a mischievous idea forming in your head.

“Shall we go on the swings?” You questioned playfully.

“It would be rude not to,” Din said with a smirk.

You made your way over to the swings, taking a seat as Din sat at the one next to you, Grogu sitting in his lap. Din told him to hold on but you had already begun moving yourself in earnest, kicking your legs out, determined to swing higher and higher. Din looked at you, a wide smile on his face as Grogu giggled. It wasn’t long before you and Din were both laughing hysterically.

Only moments before, Grogu had been violently wailing, but that terrible scene was now a distant memory as the three of you swung on the swing set. You knew that you would feel self-conscious about unleashing your inner childish side like this with most people. But with Din, you truly felt as though you could be yourself. You felt too, that the more he saw you interact with Grogu, the more he was also beginning to lower some kind of guard that he had encircled himself in. You continued happily swinging on the playground for a few more minutes until two small boys ran up to it, their faces dropping when they saw it was occupied. You felt as though you couldn’t stay there any longer with them watching you like that, so you looked at Din and the three of you climbed off and allowed the kids to play.

After leaving the swings behind, the two of you headed to the penguin enclosure, keen to see the magnificent black and white birds swimming around with your own eyes. As you and Din leant on the railings, Grogu between you, mesmerised by the creatures, the conversation shifted towards your romantic lives.

“So… uh, I was thinking perhaps we could go for some lunch at the cafe over there. Is that alright? I mean, there’s no one waiting for you back at home?” Din asked, his deep voice trembling as his brown eyes remained firmly fixed on the penguins.

“No, Din,” you breathed. “There’s no one waiting for me at home.”

“Wizard!” Din exclaimed. “Oh uh… I mean good, I wanted to spend the entire day with you.”

“Me too, Din,” you smiled. “I take it from your reaction that there is no one waiting for you, either.”

“No, it’s uh… it’s just me and Grogu. Always has been since I found him,” Din divulged and you thought you saw him grimace slightly as he admitted that. “I adopted him, you know. Don’t know much about his early life, but I’m all he has, now.”

“I gathered you had adopted him, but blood doesn’t always matter. I think you’re an amazing father,” you smiled at Din encouragingly.

“Thank you,” Din whispered, his voice cracking and eyes shimmering at your compliment.

At that moment, the little boy you had just been discussing so fondly decided to hold out his arms to Din, an indication that he wanted to be picked up. Din leaned down to scoop him up and the moment passed, but the implications of the conversation you had just shared were clear. You were both single. There were no barriers to you exploring something together. Grogu then began rubbing his stomach, an indication that he was hungry and the three of you headed towards the cafe that Din had earlier spotted.

After a delicious lunch, the rest of the afternoon passed without incident. Mercifully, Grogu did not encounter anything else that upset him as much as the Reptile House had. You and Din strolled around the remainder of the zoo at a leisurely pace, chatting to each other a little bit about your pasts as you went along. There was nothing in particular that either of you wanted to see, happy to let the mood dictate your pace. There was no pressure, nowhere for either of you to be. You gathered from comments that he had made about how busy he had been at work that week, that this was a rare, calm moment in Din’s schedule, as it was yours. He seemed to be relishing it as much as you did.

You were enjoying every moment in his presence, relieved that the spark you had first felt at the museum had carried over to your day out today. However, it was difficult to have a real conversation with him over the constant noise and toddler that you were accompanied by. Much as you had enjoyed your day out, you longed to see Din again in a quieter environment, perhaps just the two of you. But you would not make any demands or push him. Although he had been deliberately vague about what exactly it was that he did for a job, it sounded hectic and stressful. You completely understood if he wanted to spend his downtime with Grogu. You would put no pressure on him, expecting nothing even though you were extremely keen to see him again.

Eventually, you realised that it was almost closing time for the zoo. It was time to make your way to the exits and leave the animals and lush scenery behind. Though not before your promised visit to the Gift Shop, of course. You had promised Grogu a frog, after all. Fortunately, Grogu laid eyes upon the perfect toy to offset the disappointment that he had earlier felt at not being able to touch any of the amphibians. It was a bright green frog plush that he had toddled over to as soon as he laid eyes upon, pointing to it with a chubby hand, his brown eyes looking up at you expectantly.

Despite Din’s protestations that he would pay for it, you insisted. You wanted to treat the precious little boy and reward him for how well-behaved he had been throughout the day, despite his momentary lapse. Plus, Din had bought your tickets and the lunch you had enjoyed by the penguin enclosure. You felt it was the least you could do. The child was overjoyed, hugging his new frog friend tightly in one hand as he toddled alongside the pair of you out of the shop, Din clasping his other hand.

As you made your way out of the zoo, there was an ice cream van by the entrance, clearly aimed at the crowd exiting the zoo, complete with persuasive children in tow. Grogu had locked eyes on the van that was selling the sweet, sugary treats and of course, there was only going to be one outcome, his big brown eyes were too much for Din to resist. So the three of you ordered a British summertime staple: a classic 99 Flake. It was soft-serve ice cream on a cone with a crumbly, flakey chocolate bar stuck in the ice cream.

After walking away from the van, the three of you found an empty bench to sit on, to watch the world go by and enjoy your treat. Grogu was perched contentedly on Din’s lap, and you noticed, heart skipping a beat, how close you and Din had naturally found yourselves sitting on the bench. Your shoulders and arms resting against each other, your thighs touching too. It felt surprisingly comfortable and affectionate considering how little time you had spent together. But you were certain of one thing: it felt so, so right. Of course, there were probably limits to what public displays of affection Din felt comfortable with in front of Grogu. You felt certain that this was a sign of his intentions, one that set your pulse racing.

After you had all finished your ice creams – Grogu had ended up wearing more of his ice cream, the sweet treat smeared all around his lips, on his cheeks and nose – the three of you sat there in companionable silence. You watched as the dregs of the crowd filtered through the ornate gates where you had started your day hours before. The silence was pleasant, you were enjoying the sensation of being close to Din, his warm strong body resting against yours. You wondered if he had enjoyed the day as much as you had, hoped he had, at least. You wondered whether Din would like to see you again or if that was it. As if he could read your racing thoughts, Din broke the silence that had settled between the pair of you.

“So, uh. I was thinking… I would love to see you again, perhaps sometime in the week, after you finish work?” Din offered. “I can leave Grogu with a friend and meet you at the museum. Just be the two of us.”

“That sounds wonderful, Din,” You breathed, a shy smile crossing your lips as you looked into his soulful brown eyes. “I would love to.”

“Great!” Din said, smiling widely, clearly relieved that you were both on the same page about wanting to see each other again. “Let me give you my number, I’ll be in touch.”

You took your phone out of your pocket and held it towards your chest, unlocking it with slightly shaky fingers, overcome with excitement and tremendous relief that he had enjoyed your company. You were careful to hold your phone close to your body as you unlocked it so that Din could not see the picture that was your lockscreen. You weren’t sure how to explain the photo of you standing next to the incredible Mandalorian cosplayer that you had taken a picture with at ForceCon to someone like Din. Especially considering the way he had earlier responded to the Mando helmet t-shirt. You weren’t ready to show Din what level of nerd you were just yet. Surprisingly, you hadn’t brought Mando up to him yet. It was partly due to his reaction but also because you knew by your nature, how hard it would be to hide your true enthusiasm for it and just act like a casual fan. It was best left until you had gotten to know Din a bit better.

The unfamiliarity and uncertainty that lingered, despite how sure you were that you wanted to see Din again, was a reminder that this was only the second time you had spent time together. It was hard to believe that you had just met, because when you spent time with Din, you felt, somehow, that you knew him already. You had felt instantly comfortable in his presence, as though you had known him for many years.

And in a way, you had. You just didn’t know it.

Next Chapter

Taglist: @toxic-seduction @survivingandenduring @readingiskeepingmegoing

#my fics #tbobw #din djarin fanfic #din djarin x reader #din djarin x you #the mandalorian x reader #din djarin fanfiction #mando x reader #mando x you #the mandalorian fanfiction #pedro pascal characters

57 notes · View notes

freetheshit-outofyou · 5 months

Text

The Paris Gun

The Krupp arms-making dynasty was founded in Essen upon the fortune amassed by Arndt Krupp, who settled in that city in 1587. His son Anton expanded the family’s endeavors into making firearms during the Thirty Years’ War of 1618-1648, and the family progressively expanded its operations over the ensuing decades. In 1811, Friedrich Krupp (1787-1826) established a steel casting facility, and, although he successfully began casting steel in 1816, he expended considerable funds in the process. His son, Alfried (1812- 1887), continued his father’s work and eventually re-established the family fortune. By its nature steel was very difficult to cast, and internal faults were often impossible to detect through existing testing procedures. Defective cast steel pieces were also much more dangerous to crews than iron cannons, as the softer iron tended to split or burst with less energy than the harder steel, which more often ruptured with deadly violence. The Krupp firm’s success in casting steel was considered one of the major metallurgical achievements of its day.

Beginning in 1844, Alfried Krupp began experimenting in machining guns from solid cast steel blanks and in 1847 produced his first steel cannon. That same year he presented a steel gun to the King of Prussia, Frederick Wilhelm IV (1795-1861)-an act of entrepreneurial generosity that later won an order for 300 field guns. He went on to display a 6-pounder muzzleloading gun at the Great Exhibition of 1851 and began experiments in developing breechloading weapons. In 1856, Krupp introduced a 90mm field gun fitted with a transverse sliding breechblock that fit through a corresponding slot in the rear of the barrel.

Germany subsequently made the transition to rifled breechloaders during the 1860s, a move that gave it a distinct artillery advantage during the 1870-1871 Franco-Prussian War. Shortly after the war it adopted 78.5mm guns for its horse artillery and 88mm pieces for field use. The logistical difficulties associated with supplying two sizes of ammunition in the field and recent advances in metallurgy and gun design then led to the Model 73/88 system, which used the 88mm caliber for both horse artillery and field use and the later Model 73/91 system, utilizing nickel steel barrels. The Model 73/91 was finally superseded by Germany’s answer to the French 75-the Model 96 or Feldkanone 96 neur Art.

The development of specialized antiaircraft artillery also intensified during the war. The first documented use of antiaircraft artillery occurred as early as the siege of Paris during the Franco-Prussian War in 1870. At Paris, the Prussian commander von Moltke ordered weapons from Krupp in order to shoot down balloons in which the French were trying to sail over the Prussian lines. Krupp eventually delivered a number of single-shot, caliber 1-inch rifles that were mounted on pedestals bolted to the beds of two-horse wagons; they theoretically could follow the balloons on the ground while maintaining a steady firing rate. The Krupp pieces were relatively ineffective, yet at least one French balloon was apparently downed by their fire.

The rapid proliferation of powered military aircraft at the turn of the century, however, spurred an equally dedicated effort to neutralize the threat of air attacks. During the 1909 Frankfurt International Exhibition, Krupp unveiled three antiaircraft guns in a bid to monopolize the emerging market. These included a caliber 65mm 9-pounder and a 75mm 12-pounder. Krupp claimed that the largest, a pedestal-mounted 105mm gun intended for shipboard use, achieved a maximum ceiling of 37,730 feet. The caliber 65mm gun had an 18,700-foot range, could elevate 75 degrees, and its carriage had unique hinged axles that allowed the wheels to be pivoted to a position perpendicular to their traveling position. With the trail spade acting as its axis, this arrangement enabled the crew to traverse the piece 360 degrees to track enemy aircraft. With a claimed maximum ceiling of 21,326 feet, the caliber 75mm gun was mounted on a truck bed, thus giving it a high degree of mobility. Not to be outdone, Erhardt, Krupp’s closest domestic competitor, also exhibited a 50mm quick-firing antiaircraft gun mounted in an armored car’s turret.

The period also witnessed considerable experimentation in antiaircraft shells and fuses. Krupp introduced a high-explosive shell for its 3-pounder equipped with a “smoke-trail” fuse, an early tracer round that both aided the crews in sighting and was an effective incendiary against the hydrogen-filled airships of the period.

During World War I the Germans continued to experiment in antiaircraft weaponry, beginning in 1914 with the 77mm Ballonen-AK. The Ballonen-AK was then, in turn, followed in 1915 by the 77mm Luftkanone, a basic 77mm field cannon barrel mounted on a rotating scaffolding. The more effective Krupp 88mm FlaK entered service in 1918 and eventually became the inspiration for the famous World War II German “Eighty-Eight.”

Popularly named after Alfred Krupp’s daughter, the 41.3-ton, 420mm “Big Bertha” had a horizontal sliding block and fired a 1,719-pound shell up to 10,253 yards. Big Bertha required five tractors to transport its components, and it had to be assembled on site. In conjunction with a number of Austrian Skoda 305mm howitzers, the L/14 was first used with devastating effect against Liege in August 1914; it saw other action on both the Western and Eastern fronts. Owing to its relatively short range and vulnerability to Allied fire, Big Bertha was obsolete by 1917. Another heavy piece, the 211mm Mörser was adopted in 1916. It weighed 14,727 pounds and fired a 250-pound shell up to 12,139 yards.

Designed by Krupp engineers and adopted in 1918, the Paris Gun used the basic 380mm Max railroad gun barrel fitted with a barrel liner and lengthened 20 feet. The 210mm Paris Gun weighed 1,653,470 pounds and mounted a 2,550-inch barrel with a horizontal sliding block. It fired a 264-pound shell up to 82 miles. Crewed by naval personnel, the Paris Gun was so powerful that it fired its shells into the stratosphere, where the thinner atmosphere exerted less resistance, allowing such long ranges. The stress on the bore, however, wore the barrel significantly, and each succeeding projectile had to have progressively larger driving bands and heavier powder charges to compensate for the increasing windage. Although hugely inefficient in the final analysis, the Paris Gun’s greatest value lay in its use as a propaganda tool rather than an artillery piece. Source

26 notes · View notes

fatehbaz · 7 months

Text

In February 2024, creature enthusiasts and popular media outlets celebrated what has been described as the 200-year anniversary of the formal naming of the "first" dinosaur, Megalosaurus.

There are political implications of Megalosaurus and the creature's presentation to the public.

In 1824, the creature was named (Megalosaurus bucklandii, for Buckland, whose work had also helped popularize knowledge of the "Ice Ages"). In 1842, the creature was used as a reference when Owen first formally coined the term "Dinosauria". And in 1854, models of Megalosaurus and Iguanodon were famously displayed in exhibition at the Crystal Palace in London. (The Crystal Palace was regarded as a sort of central focal point to celebrate the power of the Empire by displaying industrial technology and environmental and cultural "riches" acquired from the colonies. It was built to house the spectacle of the "Great Exhibition" in 1851, attended by millions.)

The fame of Megalosaurus and the popularization of dinosaurs coincided at a time when Europe was contemplating new revelations and understandings of geological "deep time" and the vast scale of the distant past, learning that both humans and the planet were much older than previously known, which influenced narrativizing and historicity. (Is time linear, progressing until the Empire is at this current pinnacle, implying justified dominance over other more "primitive" people? Will Britain fall like Rome? What are the limits of the Empire in the face of vast time scales and environmental forces?) The formal disciplines of geology, paleontology, anthropology, and other sciences were being professionalized and institutionalized at this time (as Britain cemented global power, surveyed and catalogued ecosystems for administration, and interacted with perceived "primitive" peoples of India, Africa, and Australia; the mutiny against British rule in India would happen in 1857). Simultaneously, media periodicals and printed texts were becoming widely available to popular audiences. For Victorian-era Britain, stories and press reflected this anxiety about extinction, the intimidating scale of time, interaction with people of the colonies, and encounters with "beasts" and "monsters" at both the spatial and temporal edges of Empire.

---

Some stuff:

"Shaping the beast: the nineteenth-century poetics of palaeontology" (Laurence Talairach-Vielmas in European Journal of English Studies, 2013).

Fairy Tales, Natural History and Victorian Culture (Laurence Talairach-Vielmas, 2014).

"Literary Megatheriums and Loose Baggy Monsters: Paleontology and the Victorian Novel" (Gowan Dawson in Victorian Studies, 2011).

Bursting the Limits of Time: The Reconstruction of Geohistory in the Age of Revolution (Martin J.S. Rudwick, 2010).

Assembling the Dinosaur: Fossil Hunters, Tycoons, and the Making of a Spectacle (Lukas Rieppel, 2019).

Inscriptions of Nature: Geology and the Naturalization of Antiquity (Pratik Chakrabarti, 2020).

"Making Historicity: Paleontology and the Proximity of the Past in Germany, 1775-1825" (Patrick Anthony in Journal of the History of Ideas, 2021).

'"A Dim World, Where Monsters Dwell": The Spatial Time of the Sydenham Crystal Palace Dinosaur Park' (Nancy Rose Marshall in Victorian Studies, 2007).

Articulating Dinosaurs: A Political Anthropology (Brian Noble, 2016).

The Earth on Show: Fossils and the Poetics of Popular Science, 1802-1856 (Ralph O'Connor, 2007).

"Victorian Saurians: The Linguistic Prehistory of the Modern Dinosaur" (O'Connor in Journal of Victorian Culture, 2012).

"Hyena-Hunting and Byron-Bashing in the Old North: William Buckland, Geological Verse and the Radical Threat" (O'Connor in Uncommon Contexts: Encounters between Science and Literature, 1800-1914, 2013).

And some excerpts:

---

When the Crystal Palace at Sydenham opened in 1854, the extinct animal models and geological strata exhibited in its park grounds offered Victorians access to a reconstructed past - modelled there for the first time - and drastically transformed how they understood and engaged with the history of the Earth. The geological section, developed by British naturalists and modelled after and with local resources was, like the rest of the Crystal Palace, governed by a historical perspective meant to communicate the glory of Victorian Britain. The guidebook authored by Richard Owen, Geology and Inhabitants of the Ancient World, illustrates how Victorian naturalists placed nature in the service of the nation - even if those elements of nature, like the Iguanodon or the Megalosaurus, lived and died long before such human categories were established. The geological section of the Crystal Palace at Sydenham, which educated the public about the past while celebrating the scale and might of modernity, was a discursive site of exchange between past and present, but one that favoured the human present by intimating that deep time had been domesticated, corralled and commoditised by the nation’s naturalists.

Text by: Alison Laurence. "A discourse with deep time: the extinct animals of Crystal Palace Park as heritage artefacts". Science Museum Group Journal (Spring 2019). Published 1 May 2019. [All text from the article's abstract.]

---

[There was a] fundamental European 'time revolution' of the nineteenth century [...]. In the late 1850s and 1860s, Europeans are said to have experienced ‘the bottom falling out of history’, when geologists confirmed that humanity had existed for far, far longer than the approximately 6,000 years previously believed to represent the entire history [...]. ‘[S]ecular time’ became for many ‘just time, period’: the ‘empty time’ of Walter Benjamin. […] The European discovery of ‘deep time’ hastened this shift. [....] Historicism views the past as developments, trends, eras and epochs. [...] Victorians were intensely aware of ‘historical time’, experiencing themselves as inhabiting a new age of civilization. They were obsessed with history and its apparent power to explain the present […].

Text by: Laura Rademaker. “60,000 Years is not forever: ‘time revolutions’ and Indigenous pasts.” Postcolonial Studies. September 2021.

---

At the time when geology and paleontology emerged as new scientific disciplines, [...] [g]oing back to the 1802 exhibition of the first Mastodon exhibited in London’s Pall Mall, […] showmanship ruled geology and ensured its popularity and public appeal [...]. Throughout the Victorian period, [...] geology was as much - if not more - sensational than the popular romances and sensation novels of the time [...]. [T]he "rhetoric of spectacular display" (26) before the 1830s [was] developed by geological writers (James Parkinson, John Playfair, William Buckland, Gideon Mantell, Robert Blakewell), "borrowing techniques from [...] commercial exhibition" [...]. The discovery of Kirkdale Cave in December 1821 where fossils of [extinct] hyena bones were discovered along with other species (elephant, mouse, hippopotamus) led Buckland to posit that the exotic animals [...] had lived in England [...]. Thus, the year 1822 was significant as Buckland’s hyena den theory gave a glimpse of the world before the Flood. [...] [G]eology became a market in its own right, in particular with the explosion of cheaper forms of printed science [...] in cheap miscellanies and fictional miscellanies, with geological romances [...] [...] or [fantastical] tropes pervading [...], "leading to a considerable degree of conservatism in the imagery of the ancient earth" (196). By 1846 the geological romances were often reminiscent of the narrative strategies found in Arabian Nights [...].

Text by: Laurence Talairach-Vielmas. A book review published as: “Ralph O’Connor, The Earth on Show: Fossils and the Poetics of Popular Science, 1802 - 1856.” Review published by journal Miranda. Online since July 2010.

---

Dinosaurs, then, are malleable beasts. [...] [T]he constant reshaping of these popular animals has also been driven by cultural and political trends. [...] One of Britain’s first palaeontologists, Richard Owen, coined the term “Dinosauria” in 1842. The Victorians were relatively familiar with reptile fossils [...] [b]ut Owen's coinage brought a group of the most mysterious discoveries under one umbrella. [...] When attempting to rise to the top of British science, it helped to have the media on your side. Owen’s friendship with both Charles Dickens and William Makepeace Thackeray led to fond name-dropping by both novelists. Dickens’s Bleak House famously begins by imagining a Megalosaurus, one of Owen’s original dinosaurs. Both novelists even compared their own writing process to Owen’s palaeontological techniques. In the scientific community, Owen’s dinosaur research was first [criticized] by his [...] rival, Gideon Mantell, a surgeon and the describer of the Iguanodon. [...] Naming dinosaurs was a powerful way of claiming ownership [...]. Owen [...] knew the power of the press [...]. [M]useum exhibits [often] [...] flattered white patrons [...] by placing them at the apex of modernity. [...] Owen would not have been surprised to learn that the reconstruction of dinosaur bones is still an act that is entangled in politics.

Text by: Richard Fallon. "Our image of dinosaurs was shaped by Victorian popularity contests". The Conversation. 31 January 2020.

#abolition #ecology #paleo #imperial dinosaurs #victorian and edwardian popular culture #opacity and fugitivity

35 notes · View notes

planet-gay-comic · 1 year

Text

Inseparable Brotherhood: Three Hearts, One Promise

There are indications that some historical fraternities, including the Brotherhoods in the 19th century, encompassed homoerotic relationships and sentiments. However, these aspects were often secretive and not openly discussed. In some cases, a kind of romantic camaraderie and close bond between male members was fostered, occasionally exhibiting homoerotic elements. The ideals and values promoted by some of these fraternities, such as tolerance, friendship, equality, and personal freedom, had broader impacts on societal development. In this sense, they may have contributed to the emergence of a more accepting attitude towards sexual diversity and a more inclusive society.

In the 18th century, there were enlightening fraternities that advocated for Enlightenment ideas and progress. A prominent example is the Order of the Illuminati, founded by Adam Weishaupt in 1776 in Bavaria. The Illuminati aimed to create a society based on reason, tolerance, and social justice through education and enlightenment. They operated with secret structures and placed great emphasis on discretion.

The Illuminati were frequently criticized by conservative, autocratic, and clerical forces of their time, and various conspiracy theories were spread about them. These forces viewed the Enlightenment ideas and the Illuminati's aspirations as a threat to the existing order, particularly in terms of the influence of the Church and the nobility.

The conspiracy theories often claimed that the Illuminati had secret plans to take control of governments and institutions and establish a new world order. Such allegations were used to fuel fears and mistrust, casting the Illuminati in a negative light.

It is important to note that many of these conspiracy theories were largely unfounded and exaggerated. Nevertheless, they had a significant impact on public opinion and contributed to the rejection and persecution of the Illuminati. In hindsight, it has been shown that many of these accusations were exaggerated or simply false, and that the Illuminati actually pursued a very different goal: promoting education, tolerance, and social justice.

#gayart #queer #brotherhood #illuminati #gaycomic #love #gaykiss #kissing #boykissboy #Burschenschaft

162 notes · View notes

solatom123 · 12 days

Text

By Solomon Lartey, Teeside university student, PhD.

The Evolution of Golfing Techniques and Their Impact on the Sport: A Comprehensive Analysis

1. Introduction

Golf, a sport renowned for its precision and skill, has evolved dramatically over the centuries. From its origins in the rolling hills of Scotland to the manicured greens of today’s most prestigious courses, golfing techniques have been shaped by time, culture, and innovation. This analysis will explore the progression of these techniques and their profound impact on the sport, delving into the evolution of equipment, the pivotal role of technology in coaching, and the elevation of professional golfing to an elite industry.

Early golf sought to master a simple set of mechanics, and the dawn of golf videos shifted focus from ball trajectory to player form, highlighting posture and club angle at impact. From the 1970s onwards, advancements in swing analysis used electronics to monitor motion variables, transitioning from early video analysis to formats that monitored forwards yaws, hip and trunk rotation, and shoulder angles. Concurrently, various swing theories and techniques emerged, and educators turned to addressing the psychological nature of golf for performance enhancement. These combined techniques made it possible for experts to implement customized golf swings for increased power and accuracy.

In 1995, the worldwide interest in professional golf was further magnified by the advent of the Tiger Woods era. Golf, long considered an elite game of leisure, became a multi-billion dollar and highly magnified industry, resulting in an unprecedented boom in tourism. The rise in interest has positively impacted various areas linked to golf, ranging from equipment manufacturing to courses and hotels. The golf tourism factor has closely stimulated social needs and encouraging research into enhancing player performance. Attention spans have been decreasing, shifting focus on the macro to the micro. As world championships can be won with a last putt from roughly 60 feet or ca four frozen seconds of the putt rolling over the lips, and as research has shown the game to be played under 5 pars around the world annually, it would appear that impractically larger swings produce a larger chance of desired outcomes than other models.

Despite the financial advancement of the game, player performance has been found stagnant in the years since the mid-1990s, even when adjusting for age as deeper understandings of playing conditions have been implemented. The theory of requirements has recently been complemented by the theory of progression, unveiling golfers to exhibit adaptations to their technique related to different effects of club-ball interactions utilizing under moments during swings. Consequently, contemporary professional male golfers more commonly adopt the hitting technique than a swing technique.

2. Historical Overview of Golfing Techniques

Emerging in the 15th century in Scotland, golf was played on the Town Moor in Edinburgh, using wooden clubs and hand-carved balls. These initial techniques, as demonstrated in illustrations from the 15th and 16th centuries, showed a varied grip and swing, suggesting a natural evolution in golfing play and techniques. With its spread into England, Ireland, and Europe, golf matured as a sport, creating a need for standardized rules and equipment. In 1744, the first known set of golf rules was drafted in Edinburgh, leading to the evolution of golfing techniques. Long-shots, greens, shovels, and the brassie became key components of the game. The 19th century also witnessed the invention of iron clubs and the subsequent emergence of golfing clubs from St. Andrews. (Cousins, 2023)

During the early years of its introduction to America, within two decades, golf was being played at a variety of courses in nearly every densely populated area, notably in New York City. Now rapidly growing in sporting popularity, golf was formally adopted by the United States Golf Association (USGA) in 1894. Its increased participation, from the low-income population to upper socio-economic classes, facilitated the establishment of new tournaments with longer prizes. Moreover, women became increasingly involved as a result of the burgeoning interest in golf. Subsequently, the competitive spirit led golf balls to undergo an evolutionary change, advocating for golfing clubs and balls that were closer to the present-day variety. (Austin, 2022)

With the turn of the century, attention was concentrated on the rebirth of golf and its recuperation from its ancillary school of excesses. Gear swept aside knickerbockers, silk knicker trousers, and other somberly colored clothes in favor of a predominating cap and jacket of tweed, medium grey mixed with warm brown and rich yellow. Not only golf but tennis as well had inspired vigorous notice and into it had rushed the whole nation. Taming the wildness of golf, in 1903, Wilding had become the amateur champion of the United States before winning Wimbledon the following year. This period remained otherwise notable because Big Bertha knocked all other golf balls silly and nearly into the junk pile with its huge face of 6.79 inches head attached to a shaft of 47 inches. (Rebanal Martínez, 2021)

3. Key Traditional Golfing Techniques

Golf is a sport that has a long history behind it. Since the sport gained huge fame and number of followers across the globe, several golfing techniques have evolved and altered the playstyle and style of the game. Golfing techniques occurred both naturally and innovatively. The focus of this section is to analyze the most impactful and widespread golfing techniques that have impacted the game most. (Suzuki et al., 2021)

3.1. Grip and Stance

One of the most significant developments in golfing techniques was the discovery of proper grip and stance styles. These two techniques are the most basic in golfing and play a significant role in determining the outcome of the game. The selection of the proper grip is critical to play the game properly. The grip of the driver is one of the major factors in determining the play and path of the ball. Selecting the proper grip technique allows the golfer to strike the ball from all the surfaces of the golf course evenly. Early on, a lot of golfers adopted the splitting of the index finger technique of gripping, either overlapping or interlocking or gripping with all 10 fingers. However, learning to grip it properly takes much more time as the public exposure to it was minimum. Gradually with technological advancement, special caps were developed and ball tracking gadgets were invented. These gadgets and balls provided instant outcome of the game after the impact of the driver. Analyzing the golf ball spin and path, the experts suggested changing the grip technique enabling the golfer to point their thumb at the high left region of the shaft while keeping their hand rotated clockwise by 45 degrees. Using this grip technique, a golfer's club face would start at maximum closed position preventing the draw hook of the ball. (Navarro Lasunción, 2024)

Other widely used grip techniques with curved driver and ridges on the shape of the driver head resulted in an unintended hook path on the right leading to a miss-hit. Matched with the wrong stance, the unintended hook path continued with hands placed in front of the ball leading to an insufficiently closed face preventing the draw path. There were also recommendations from gear effect drives used having a shaft positively tilted towards the right from the vertical being useless for the golf set with driver have a head of a high vertical angled aligned with the fore link tilt. While this tended on increasing miss-hit affecting the distance, this also caused the hit on the optimal impact with the club face not parallel to the path of the driver nearly impeding the general tendency on time delay producing a meanwhile unliking swerve from players. (Trustees)

The stance in core requires power and this golf pose, playing a significant role between address and impact, has received little attention from teaching professionals compared with grip or swing techniques. Golfers with stable stance in general do not raise or lower their heads before or into backswing be likely to achieve more consistence shots. Thus, investigating the effect of stance technique requires assessing its amplitude throughout the whole swing and comparing the address and impact postures.

The head movement produced in the stance would bed a golfer to start the swing along a wrong path in a miss-hit with a hook or slice shot. Additionally, right-players flare to poorly rotate their hips and shoulders producing shoring shots. On the other side, flexibility across the upper body or within the lower body drives somewhat core-level players needing over-rotation of the upper body during the backswing or excessive forward push with the lower body after impact. However, few golfers are properly taught to stretch manually to reach a wider stance before address.

3.2. Swing Mechanics

Another traditional golfing technique is swinging in sync with the body. This technique teaches the players to follow the core rotational swing mechanics and circle the driver around one axis to play the ball instead of swaying axis in a miss-hit forming either slice or hook shots. Using amateurs (body type mass 74.5 kg height 1.75 m ) and ten top professional golfer's (PGA tour average drive distance 288.5±11.5 yards) with club heads sampled by high-speed cameras and various targets, this traditional technique has also been developed. Parameterizing a three-dimensional inverse kinematic model representing overall body and club movement, the effect of the traditional technique and stored parameters is compared through performing a full golf swing, addressing how the differences around the average from the parameters stored within each group affect the likelihood on miss-hit. (Hasley et al.2023)

The method concentrates on the motion aspect, choosing a local coordinate system at ground level with an origin fixed in the position of the golf ball and with axes pointing down the fairway, left and up for distance and vertical movements respectively. With regards to twenty-nine parameters describing the movement of the golf swing covering both body angles, positions and club face positions, the results yield a greater likelihood on miss-hit with amateurs than with top professionals severely indicating that educational systems would greatly enhance the precision of this sport. (ToSell & Saturday)

Modern golf is a sport of precision. Therefore, playing under different configurations on course, club, equipment and environment match with the swing mechanics of players define unique characters influencing the outcome of the play. By controlling for some factors, affecting the probability of miss-hit can be categorized into three parts conventionally referred to as play styles influencing the stance and swing. Enhancing performance comprises techniques altering stroke playstyle to almost systematically inhibit execution with miss-hit or miss-rim.

3.1. Grip and Stance

Central to the essence of golf lies the grip and stance—the foundational techniques upon which every other element of the game rests. Irrespective of the club in hand or the skill level of the golfer, this initial and primal action inevitably shapes the success of every shot played. Despite the subtle variations among golfers, whether leisurely players, seasoned amateurs, or elite professionals, grip and stance exhibit remarkable uniformity and graphical simplicity. Analyzing these two techniques sheds light not only on the sport as a whole but also on the everyday champion or played ball. (Wells, 2022)

Progressing from the outside in, the stance serves as the golfer's base of support throughout the entire swing. Only with solid, equal foundation can the golfer swing the club forwards and backwards around that fixed point. Both feet part distance and angle to the ball relative to the target are memories etched in the minds of most conscientious amateur golfers. Conversely, the grip, a more complex technique, consists of multiple actions made by both hands with the fingers and thumb of each hand against the club at the same time. Upon the grip is built the inadvertent pivot of the swing, the hands on the club controlling the face of the club and thus ultimately influencing the path of the arc. (Yang et al.2021)

While the momentary grip on the club is the fiest action shared by every golfer, uniqueness of the grip lies in regards to the club. Each club is different in form and feel, hence muscle memory is burnt by the unique act repeated with each club, and new twists in hands and wrists are added onto the basic grip. These intricacies are due to the fact that putter, iron, hybrid, wood, and driver all possess different lofts, lengths, and thus unique flex dynamics (whether aiming to keep the ball low, induce a slight loft, or to arc up the drive). Nevertheless, the grip is the only act from which the later swing peace is unwound. (Hocknell et al., 2020)(Holland et al.2020)

3.2. Swing Mechanics

In traditional golfing techniques, swing mechanics play a vital role in imparting the necessary power, accuracy, and consistency to the flight of the ball. The golf swing can be simply visualized as an arc of circular motion around a fixed axis, in which the clubhead moves towards a pivoted point in front of the body. A fundamental postulate of the golf swing is that the club must not be swung across the body during the downswing. It must instead be swung down and out. The path of the clubhead takes a symmetrical arc: down and in during the downswing, and up and out during the follow-through. The path of the golf ball must be compatible with the path of the clubhead at impact. The club must be swung down from a position well above the line of the ball so that the clubhead meets the ball just as the clubhead is on an outward path.

Another key point of traditional golf swing mechanics is that it must conform to ball-centering and impact position requirements, no matter how the club is gripped and so the wrist hinge or how minimized the lateral movement there is of the protruding body parts. The clubhead must be swung similarly around stacked vertical axes on both the back and forward motions. Both the backswing and follow-through must be performed in an arc motion that is of a uniform radius and is centered behind the body's core. In order to square the clubface at impact, the club must be swung reflexively over-restricted through the slot. In an attempt to prevent the ball from going to the right, the club must either re-extend a protruding arm or a wrist has to be unhinged too late.

There are biomechanical adjustments to traditional swing mechanics to create a normal golf swing free from hooked strokes. Adjustment of the arm's length of swing and pivot point is performed, so as to consider the baseball swing mechanics of working in a wider arc while continuing to adhere to the traditional grip. In line with fixed pivoting points of both the anchored legs and a core, the arms must be freed from the body's pivot to control the swing radius of the club circled by the arms. This could in turn free the clubs of being swung excessively within the body. To create an arched swing path, the shoulders and the forearms must be swung downwards by movers in charge of the pulled sides of the torso.

4. Technological Advancements in Golf Equipment

In the intricate tapestry of golf’s storied heritage, it’s frequently the quiet evolution behind the scenes that has had the most lasting consequences. Though it is often easy to recall the flamboyant politicians and pro athletes who have played the game, the focus here is instead on lesser-known figures who have played a crucial part in changing the nature of the sport. Decades before the modern game took hold, innovators tinkering with rudimentary wooden instruments had a profound effect on how golf was played. Given the game’s glacial and genteel pace of life, it is easy to misconstrue golf as a quaint pastime sustained by social and economic traditions. However, golf has never really stopped changing. Indeed, the game is replete with breakthroughs in technique that have irrevocably shaped how the sport is played. Greenkeeping, the ball, and the club have all received attention in this study on the evolution of golf equipment. (Millard, 2023)

In each instance, innovations that worked their way upwards from relatively small roots transformed the fabric of the entire sport. It wasn’t always a linear or easy process. Opposition to rubber balls was widespread, and clubmakers feared what would happen to golf in the transition from wooden to metal-headed clubs. As alternatives have arisen, so too have concerns about their sustainability for the game. But legislation has kept pace with innovation, and throughout golf’s history such changes have had a far-reaching effect on the mechanics of technique and the playing of the game itself. Arguably, the most impactful development has been the introduction of technology. Club-making methods and material sciences have outstripped the skill of the club professional, as has the golfiness of golf course design. At one fell swoop, this has rendered the great par-threes of the craft obsolete. Nevertheless, this does not mean that the world of golf has been left wanting. In some respects, the game’s rich history has underestimated the effect technology would ultimately have on golf. In challenging the adequacy of human endeavour, it is likely to continue reshaping technique and the sport for decades into the future. As golf begins its own paradigm shift, it is likely to usher in a new generation of feral and free-spirited golfers bent on domination.

5. Modern Golfing Techniques

The advent of technological innovation and scientific advancement, primarily identifiable in the last two decades of the twentieth century, prompted a revolution in golfing techniques and methodologies. An emerging industry, golf biomechanics inadvertently fueled this revolution by mechanizing and simplifying golf swings while theoretically minimizing the risk of golf-related injury. By accurately measuring the kinematically remarkable movement of the human body in two and three-dimensional spaces, golf biomechanics began to prompt a re-evaluation of past golfing methods. Meanwhile, an upswing in the use of golf simulators and innovative golfing training was notable. Previous errors in golf swings were corrected or slowed with the incorporation of slow-motion kinetic studies. Resultingly, a revolution similar to the re-evaluation of swinging techniques in golf biomechanics and pseudo golf was prompted within golfing cultures. A list of referential golfing figures of modern golfing techniques and their techniques has become a cultural norm in the global golf culture. An index is commonly referred to for golfing techniques and their analysis, and a checklist could readily and easily find its way into an amateur golfer's golf bag. Most of modern golfing techniques are biomechanical or kinematic by nature and gradually becomes mechanical, offering universally applicable and culturally broad methodologies. With the mechanical nature of golfing, modeling is prominently involved, reducing golf swings and inquiry into a system of modularity on repeatable, testable motion.

Yet, modeling entails a reduction of the complex mixture found in golf swings while representing only the most relevant aspects of motion and, in turn, negating specific conditions. As a result, a model raises the concern of an inevitable cultural appropriation that homogenizes bodily motion, associated consciousness, and adherent verbalizations, other than casting golf swings as “an intuitive game” that renders golf swings and their culture art-like. Therefore, in light of its social frames, paradigmatic and iconic, golf modeling necessitates a comprehensive analysis - understanding both the affordance it bears for concentrated interests in bodily technique, consciousness, and culture, and its subsequent cultural epiphenomena. The inroad for such an analysis is gained via an inquiry into the pioneering models of golf swings by acclaimed golf figures. Similar to today’s golf syllabuses that gather iconic figures’ golf swings and disseminate their mission-statement-like verbalization, prominent golfing figures’ modeling gratifies a prospective golfer desire to enhance golfing techniques, reckoning the cited concern of reproducible golf swings. This takes the next question as to how to improve such reproducible golfing techniques, which barely offers mutual and specific answers, other than modeling without a framework to analyze the social nexus that holds the compliant relationship between bodily technique and consciousness. Therefore, within the modern golfing culture entirely pervaded by golfing modeling, golf figure studies appear necessary. (Yordanov et al., 2022)

5.1. Biomechanics and Kinematics

Biomechanics and Kinematics: Human body and strength have greatly affected how bio-mechanics has emerged in sports. Body types and strengths vary from person to person. Some people have better swing speeds, while others have better swing lines. In Golf, the primary movement is rotation at the shoulders, pelvis, knees, and feet. All these rotational body movements affect club speed and distances. This biomechanical analysis focuses on the golf swing motion with a right-handed player, encompassing positions from the back swing, down swing, and follow through for bio-mechanical explanations. A major intention of this analysis is to determine and discuss some key bio-mechanical aspects of the golf swing in comparison to the golf swings of the rookie and the professional players filmed by the St-2 mini camcorders. In this analysis, the veterans and their swings would be also looked at with respect to biomechanics to check the swings and movements. (Gould et al.2021)

Clubs’ types and specifications are a big part of modern golf. Golf manufacturers spend so much time, money, and effort trying to make golf technology that provides players with better equipment that makes the overall game easier. The main types and specifications in clubs are the loft, lie, length, weight consistency, swing weight, shaft tip age, grooves, and face types. The lifetime of endurance and consistency of clubs is often compared with other sports like tennis or baseball. Weather and play can affect the precision and potential of the equipment and change how they perform. The rules of club types are based upon the USGA rules. The creativity and skills in the play can be lost or changed with overly complex club technology. The point of this analysis is to investigate clubs as modern technology, equipment of golf, history, types, strengths, and rules.

Lastly, putting has been very computerized in recent times, and these systems are mainly found inside the houses of golfers. Systems to putt are hugely mechanical and computerized. To the public, these are regarded as an illegal use of equipment by the USGA rules. The industry of golf is now entering a scientific and mechanical time. Tennis, baseball, basketball, other sports, and their athletes think of ways to get better by using better, smarter technology. Human be-havior, flexibility of the biomechanics of golf is studied more than it ever has been. The general idea of golf has modernized from traditional club use to mechanical bio-mechanical and technological golf ways. The game of golf is still the same as it once was and should feel and sometimes be used that whether the game hasn’t changed much.

5.2. Mental and Psychological Strategies

In addition to physical considerations, the evolution of golfing techniques must involve an overview of the mental and psychological strategies in the game. Golf presents a generally unique sporting challenge, unlike most other popular sports. Golfing matches can last from a short 2 hours to over 4 hours, involving the same (comparative) situation throughout the round, with the main additional variable from a golfing perspective being the course location. The game itself does not have other competitors impeding the performance of other competitors, which is a primary aspect of most competitive sporting events. Such factors mean that these variables need to be dealt with in different ways practically and mentally. As a result, golfers must fine-tune techniques in terms of performance, understanding the zone of control, and preparation before and even during a round. This could best be illustrated by considering the case of one Mexican golfer. (Whitehead & Jackman, 2021)(Oliver et al.2021)

Sometimes the metagame needs to be understood to strategize the techniques further and control each performance based on strategic choices that could depend on the golfing situation, physical environment (ground, wind, and heart rate), and mainly performance and situation statistics. Although similar comparative techniques concerning the hurdles must be used (such as meteorological statistics and ground understanding), the golfer possesses a personal meta-knowledge. Despite winning tournaments against male players, the winning techniques were first based on knowing which holes are best for the average male player and trying to comprehend such stats from a different viewpoint, taking the ESPN Stats and Info team’s possible projections to understand the whole player perspective holistically. One advantage was that overall performances could be compared, but not on a stroke basis. From such differences and distances, possible plays to gain advantage on putting and driving could be analyzed depending on whole distance outputs, grass, topography, and other possible required pitches. Such edge considerations were planned and used progressively throughout rounds.

Another personal understanding of individual techniques based on performance intimate knowledge is how to be in “the zone.” This involves controlling and understanding many thoughts, visualizations, and sensations (mindfulness) concerning positive and negative traits and stimuli that promote or disrupt performance. This level was progressively obtained through rigorous daily effort and analyze of various performances under such conditions. Once trained, it is essential to exercise this state to dispose of it and be ready for use at any point. Such a technique is closely related to breathing and some routine actions before swinging with the putter, shorter clubs, and driver, which help to place the tasks within the best condition zone to control them suitably. Using the context to feel emotions and stimuli clearly is crucial to signal immediately where it is best (and needed) to focus more and not just continue to shake player heads.

Being relaxed is also a constant approached challenge, especially when tied for first or leading. In this state, focus is lost and hence control, and it must be planned before and after the round to either maintain a fluent rhythm when playing or breathe and try to feel relaxed on each action otherwise. On the physiological aspect, alcohol can be exploited to be used and limit to achieve a certain performance point.

6. The Impact of Evolving Techniques on Performance and Strategy

Through analysis of archived materials, the impact of technology and scientific knowledge on golf techniques is assessed. Instructions were initially rudimentary but became more structured and based on anatomical insights and human behavior. A shift from fundamental improvement with awareness to technique refinement for elite players was observed. Changes commonly target styles of movement rather than player individuality and requirement. Analysis of past and current documents reveals the impact and concern regarding the influence of evolving techniques on golf performance and strategy selection. (Wells & Langdown, 2020)

The impact of evolving techniques on performance and strategy selection: An analysis based on archived materials on golf technique instruction spanning more than 120 years emphasizes the influence and concern surrounding technique. This analysis distinguishes four periods in the evolution of instruction and discusses the resulting focus of performance improvement and strategy selection.

With the advent of increasing technology and scientific knowledge, including progress in physical education, structural exploration of the human body, the notion of unconscious motivation, video and computer instruction, and sports psychology, golf techniques recorded between 1869 and 2008 are analyzed to examine the impact of evolving techniques on golf performance and strategy selection. All the documents are archived in England, specifically the British Library of Sports and The Open Championship.

The performance of golf is determined by a sequence of strategy selections and executions, considering two phases of action: strategy consideration, which refers to creating a sequence of actions to execute at a specific time, and strategy evaluation, which refers to checking the overall cost-effectiveness of the selected strategies. With such a historical perspective, the impact of evolving techniques can be evaluated in terms of changes in the focus of performance improvement and strategy selection. Hence, the disposition of past and present golf instruction documents is examined in terms of the focus of evolving coaching knowledge, norm observation, and coaching view of players, all as targets for consideration. (Roberts et al.2021)

7. Conclusion and Future Directions

The game of golf has evolved in multiple ways over the years, with changes in clubs and technology, the construction of courses and walking or buggy riding, the professionalization of the sport, changes in the amateur ethos, and societal perceptions. This review addressed these topics and provided insight into the evolution of golfing techniques and their impact on the sport. In particular, the evolution of golf clubs with historic roots, technological developments, and the golf swing mechanism were elaborately discussed. It is hoped that this review would help in the future understanding of golf and assist in making decisions over the future of golf.

In conclusion, golf is the game of putters and drivers, greens and fairways, wedges, and who knows how many others when it comes to clubs. A golf club in the strictest definition implies a stick with a curved end, or several curved ends that are used to hit the golf ball. Golf clubs comprise of shaft, club head, hosel, grip, and face. There are several types of clubs used in golf, putting clubs, short clubs, mid-range clubs, long clubs, wedges, and drivers. The design and material of clubs can dramatically affect the flight of a golf ball. Using the right type of club can help a player improve their game. This paper presents historical roots of clubs from refashioned farm implements to highly machined titanium heads, discusses the evolution of clubs over the years and ends with future expectations over clubs.

Although golf swings appear to be simple to the untrained eye, close-up viewing demonstrates the remarkable complexity of motions involved. Throughout the golf swing, a complex interplay of biomechanics and motion exists. Golfers generate kinetic energy in a swinging motion and transfer throughout the golfer to the hands that holds the club. This energy is converted into a ball-launching motion powered by a series of motion-to-force conversions acting on the club’s head. The golf swing is a movement skill, involving dynamic coordination of legs, hips, trunk, shoulders, arms, hands, and clubs in a serial way. It’s important in both golf swing analysis and instructional improvement to recognize and understand the biomechanics supporting the golf swing.

References:

Cousins, G., 2023. Golf in Britain: a social history from the beginnings to the present day. [HTML]

Austin, P. C., 2022. “Challenge or Be Challenged”: The Personal and Political Importance of Black Women's Golf Clubs. Modern American History. academia.edu

Rebanal Martínez, G., 2021. Golf in St Andrews, the critical years, c. 1880-1914. Sport in History. [HTML]

Suzuki, T., Sheahan, J. P., Okuda, I., & Ichikawa, D., 2021. Investigating factors that improve golf scores by comparing statistics of amateur golfers in repeat scramble strokes and one-ball conditions. ua.es

Navarro Lasunción, C., 2024. Study of the development of the technology employed in golf equipment and the resulting impact on the professional tour. upc.edu

Trustees, B. E. N., . Fairfield MIRRORV. Mirror. fairfield.edu

Hasley, I.B., Ostby, T.D., Fjosne, C.M. and Jelsing, E.J., 2023. Etiology and Prevention of Common Injuries in Golf. Current sports medicine reports, 22(6), pp.210-216. [HTML]

ToSell, A. & Saturday, P., . Morehead State Baccalaureate Is Sunday; Commencement SpeakerIsCincinnatiPrexy. scholarworks.moreheadstate.edu. moreheadstate.edu

Wells, M., 2022. No One Playing: The Essence of Mindfulness in Golf and in Life. [HTML]

Yang, C.J., Tai, M.L., Hu, C.M., Hamill, J. and Tang, W.T., 2021. Effect of stance width on posture stability of golfers putting under windy conditions. International Journal of Sports Science & Coaching, 16(2), pp.324-333. [HTML]

Hocknell, A., Jones, R., & Rothberg, S., 2020. Engineering 'feel'in the design of golf clubs. The engineering of sport. [HTML]

Holland, S., Dickey, J., Ferreira, L. and Lalone, E., 2020. Investigating the grip forces exerted by individuals with and without hand arthritis while swinging a golf club with the use of a new wearable sensor technology. Proceedings of the Institution of Mechanical Engineers, Part P: Journal of Sports Engineering and Technology, 234(3), pp.205-216. [HTML]

Millard, D., 2023. How golf can save your life. [HTML]

Yordanov, S., Yordanov, P., & Zdravkov, I., 2022. MODERN PRACTICE AND METHODS FOR INTEGRATION THROUGH GOLF. PROCEEDING BOOK. nsa.bg

Gould, Z.I., Oliver, J.L., Lloyd, R.S., Neil, R. and Bull, M., 2021. The Golf Movement Screen is related to spine control and X-factor of the golf swing in low handicap golfers. The Journal of Strength & Conditioning Research, 35(1), pp.240-246. [HTML]

Whitehead, A. E. & Jackman, P. C., 2021. Towards a framework of cognitive processes during competitive golf using the Think Aloud method. Psychology of Sport and Exercise. ljmu.ac.uk

Oliver, A., McCarthy, P.J. and Burns, L., 2021. Using a “think aloud” protocol to understand meta-attention in club-level golfers. International journal of sport and exercise psychology, 19(5), pp.780-793. gcu.ac.uk

Wells, J. E. T. & Langdown, B. L., 2020. Sports science for golf: A survey of high-skilled golfers'“perceptions” and “practices”. Journal of Sports Sciences. [HTML]

Roberts, L.J., Jackson, M.S. and Grundy, I.H., 2021. The effects of cognitive interference during the preparation and execution of the golf swing. International Journal of Sport and Exercise Psychology, 19(3), pp.413-428. [HTML]

8 notes · View notes