#nestor's cup

[archaeologs]

Nestor's cup, Pithekoussai (Naples, Italy). 700 - 750 BCE. Famous for featuring a written reference to King Nestor of Homer's Iliad, the inscription is one of the earliest surviving examples of the Greek alphabet.

Learn more / Daha fazlası https://www.archaeologs.com/w/nestors-cup/

[am-okay-system]

Never have I understood what Mark and Ethan went through on the eggnog drinking episode more than when I am drinking a cup of eggnog. I used to think "ah, what a simple task! I could do that easily" now I am humbled by this small cup in my hand.

[awordbroken]

too lazy to rearrange my cats-named-after masters next to each other, but the collection so far.

[twilightt-fantasy]

traditions [garrett denali]

description: If I may ask I'd love to see Garrett snuggled up for a night with his human mate. Snow outside, she's got hot coco, fuzzy pajamas, a warm blanket and a fire and the two are watching Christmas movies(The classics of course! Nestor the long eared Christmas donkey is one my family always has to watch). I'd just love to see him all domestic and coddling his mate. Please and thank you for your time!

requested by: @twilightlover2007

warnings: none

thank you for requesting! merry christmas!

"be careful, it's hot." your mate, garrett, warned you softly as he handed you a steaming cup of hot cocoa. you smiled at him, noting how he had gotten it just right - in your favorite red mug, with whip cream, mini marshmallows, and cinnamon sprinkled on top.

"thank you." you told him, blowing the steam away as you did. garrett smiled back at you before positioning himself next to you on the couch. he adjusted the blankets around the two of you, making sure you had the majority of them so you wouldn't get cold while the two of you cuddled.

garrett had your human nature down - he was always putting your safety and needs above his own and was always considerate of how different your statuses were. this was his first christmas with you and he was picking up on your traditions quickly as well.

for example, the hot cocoa, mountain of blankets, and the christmas tree decorated perfectly were all part of your christmas holiday. and now that you were both settled, he had put on one of your favorite christmas films of all time - nestor the long-eared christmas donkey. your family had watched christmas movies every year as a kid and it was a tradition you continued yourself as you got older.

you smiled again as the movie began, cuddling further into garrett's side as you took a sip of cocoa. his arm was wrapped around your shoulders, tucking you tightly into his side. you peeked a glance at him, your heart filling when you saw him watching the movie with honest eagerness.

you leaned up to kiss his cheek, catching his attention. "thank you. this has been one of the best christmases i've had in a long time."

garrett smiled and leaned down, pecking a quick kiss to your lips. "i'd have to agree. i don't celebrate much anymore but i'm glad i get to with you."

you had to reach up and kiss him again, your heart filled with love for your mate and the christmas season. "merry christmas, garrett."

[whencyclopedia]

The Greek Alphabet developed from the Phoenician script at some point around the 8th century BCE. The earlier Mycenaean Linear B script, used primarily for lists and inventories, had been lost during the Greek Dark Age, and the technology of the written word remained unavailable until the invention of the alphabet, which influenced the later Latin script. The basis for the writing system known as the 'alphabet' came from the Near East, specifically the Levant, but, as scholar Barry B. Powell, points out, these earlier systems were not the alphabet: From an historical point of view, "alphabet" and "Greek alphabet" are one and the same. The Greek alphabet was the first writing that informed the reader what the words sounded like, whether or not he knew what the words meant. The word "alphabet" itself is Greek, formed from the Greek names of the first two signs in the series . Earlier writings, including such West Semitic writings as Phoenician and Hebrew, were in this sense not alphabets. All later alphabets, the Latin or Cyrillic or the International Phonetic Alphabet, are modifications of the Greek alphabet, having the same internal structure. (3) Unlike the Mycenaean Linear B Script, which seems to have served a primarily utilitarian function, the alphabet was quickly used in preserving the literary oral tradition by writing down the Iliad and the Odyssey (attributed to Homer) and religious traditions as recorded by Hesiod in his Theogony, all three dated to the 8th century BCE. New works were also created, however, such as Hesiod's Works and Days, and inscriptions such as the one from Nestor's Cup (also dated to the 8th century BCE), among the earliest extant examples of Greek writing. From the 8th century BCE onwards, the Greek alphabet was used to produce all of the famous works of the civilization on topics ranging from astronomy and astrology to botany, biology, creative writing, literary criticism, history, the medical arts, philosophy, science, sociology, veterinary medicine, and zoology, among many others, standardizing knowledge and allowing for further developments. The Greek alphabet was adopted by the Etruscans and transmitted by them to the Romans who used it to develop the Latin script, which became the basis for modern alphabetic scripts.

[juicesgf]

No Matter What {N.O}

Warnings: none just fluff

gf reader x bf nestor

“Please don’t be mad at me.” Nestor pleaded through the door

“I could never be mad at you, just come out.” Y/n assured

Nestor let out a sigh before opening the bathroom door and stepping out.

Y/ns eyes widened for a moment seeing the cut he was now wearing.

He saw her expression and immediately spoke up “This is so much better than the security—“

He was cut off by Y/n cupping his face and placing a quick kiss to his lips.

She smiled before pulling away “I’m with you, no matter what.”

[barbariankingdom]

Nestor's cup, Mycenae, c.1550-1500 BC

[bullet-prooflove]

Stockton!Series Part Six: Times Are Changing - Nestor Oceteva x Reader (feat: Bishop Losa & Marcus Alvarez)

Tagging: @anime-weeb-4-life @danzer8705 @drabbles-mc @alwaysachorusgirl @witches-unruly-heart @mysoulisasunflower @im-just-a-mississippi-girl @est1887 @mortal--soul @buddinglinguist @spookyboogyuniverse @thanossexual @lexondeck @weiwei0210 @trublu2u @justreblogginfics @oklahomapeach @keyweegirlie @crazy4chickennuggets @kmc1989 @withakindheartx @fanfic-n-tabulous @beardedbarba @adaydreamaway08 @librarian1002 @kishie8 @saltyunicorn079 @thebaileybugle @spaghettificationandpretzels @nu1freakshow @doggirlforever @beccabarba @legally-a-bastard @wnbweasley @skyesthebomb @msjava1972 @trublu2u @fleureeee @jp1019 @thiashazzywriting @jeybae @collegegirl83

Stockton!Series:

Part One: El Cuchillo - An incident in the clubhouse causes ramifcations for the entire club.

Part Two: Always - Nestor learns about what happened.

Part Three: In the Dark - You and Nestor wake up to find armed men in your house.

Part Four: Sierra - Marcus takes care of the men who tried to kill you.

Part Five: Maternal - Nestor and you take refuge at a familiar location.

It’s past midnight and Marcus sits alone in Templo. He’s taken the seat at the head of the table, his fingertips flicking through ‘The Good Book’, the one that Marcus had created when he founded the club all those years ago. Their history, their rules, their legacy, it’s all contained within these pages.

It’s been horrible couple of days, for him, for the MC, for his family, because that’s what you are to him, family. His daughter, born of fire and blood, the one that Ramos had tried to murder in her sleep, all over a grudge from something that happened when you were a child. Something you have no knowledge of, that’s he’s determined you’ll never have any knowledge of.

This book it plays a part in that.

As he reads it, he recognises the ramblings of the angry, violent man he used to be. The monster he calls it now, when he talks to Izzy.

He raises his head as Bishop enters through the stained-glass door. In each of his hands he holds a mug of coffee, the real stuff. Marcus would know that aromatic scent anywhere, it’s the same brand he keeps in his house. He sets one of the mugs in front of Marcus before he takes up residence in the V.P’s seat.

“Hell of a day.” Bishop says rubbing his hands over his weary features.

“Yea.” Marcus says as he picks up his coffee cup and takes a sip. “I’m just hoping they got the message otherwise things are about to get real fucked up.”

“Stockton was already fucked up. Things will change now Ramos is gone.” Bishop assures the other man. “Smokey’s tough, he’ll rein them in and the ones that don’t fall into line…I won’t shed any tears for them.”

Marcus shakes his head.

“I won’t either.”

There’s silence between the two of them for a moment, each man lost in his own thoughts. It shouldn’t have come down to this, they should have dealt with this problem long before Ramos had ever laid eyes on you.

“I haven’t seen that for a while.” Bishop utters, gesturing towards the book.

Marcus sighs heavily.

“Probably for good reason.” Marcus says before he turns the book towards Bishop.

The other man studies the words before shaking his head.

“It was a different time back then.” Bishop says, removing the cigarettes from inside of his kutte. He taps the box upon the table before removing one and placing it between his lips.

“We talk about women as if their property, something to be owned, to be traded when we get tired of them.” Marcus jabs his finger at the paper. “This book tells us their only good for sex or serving, it doesn’t talk about love or respect. Is it any wonder that charters like Stockton act the way they do when these are the values, we’ve instilled in them?”

Bishop lights up his cigarette, he takes a drag.

“The world is changing El Padrino. We have to adapt.” Bishop says as he taps the ash off the end of cigarette. “We care about our women here; we cherish them but other charters… It needs to be a message that goes out across the club. What happened the other day can’t be allowed to happen again, not to anyone. There needs to be repercussions for that type of shit.”

Marcus nods his agreement, his hands wrapping the mug.

“I’m proud of that you’ve done here primo, legitimising the MC, supporting the community.” He tells Bishop earnestly. “This charter’s become more than I could have dreamed of.”

“And all it took was for me to pull my head out of my ass.” Bishop remarks before he takes another drag on the cigarette as he watches Marcus withdraw an A6 notebook from the interior pocket of his kutte. He pushes it towards the other man with his fingertips.

“This is what I’ve put together, a revised edition of the by-laws.” Marcus tells Bishop before he drains the rest of his coffee.

Bishop reviews the changes before tapping his fingertip upon the paper and raising his eyes to meet Marcus’s.

“We need to talk about Taza.”

Marcus clasps his hands together, his lips pursing into a grim line.

“We have to lead by example El Padrino,” Bishop tells him, his voice gruff as he stubs out his cigarette. “He has suffered for so long under the weight of this secret, putting the club before himself over and over again. I can’t help but wonder how many other Tazas are out there, how many other brothers are struggling with something just like this and what happens to the ones that aren’t as strong as him.”

Marcus knows what he’s talking about, the suicides that leave no notes, the members that are quietly taken care of for an infraction that can’t be discussed.

“We have to do better.” Bishop tells him, picking up the cigarette box and tapping it upon the surface of the table.  “Every single one of us deserves to love who we love and not be punished for it.”

“You’re right.” Marcus says finally, picking up his pen and adding the amendment. “I’ll get this drawn up and sent out to the other charters.”

Marcus raises to his feet, tucking the notebook back into his kutte. His hand comes to rest upon Bishop’s shoulder, clasping it tightly.

“You’ve been leading the way for a while now, primo. It’s time for the other charters to get in line and follow.”

Love Nestor? Get added to his tag list!

Like My Work? - Why Not Buy Me A Coffee

[justpostsyeet]

Mîr Vin Universe : Origins

Ch 2.5 : Mysterious Artifacts

A/N : All those who'll guess the correct objects will be send a warm bowl of soup*telepathically*

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As the elves delved into the mysterious woman’s belongings, their initial intent to find potential harm transformed into an intriguing exploration of unfamiliar artifacts. Among the items, they discovered clothing of a similar fashion to what she wore, confirming the uniqueness of her attire. Strips of expensive fabric hinted at a meticulous attention to detail in her possessions. The food items, unlike anything seen in Elven or Middle-earth cultures, sparked curiosity. Exotic aromas wafted from packages that bore no resemblance to the lembas or other fare known to the elves. Moreover, the elves encountered objects previously unseen in Middle-earth. Mysterious in both form and material, these items were beyond their realm of knowledge. They exchanged glances, realizing that the answers to the woman’s origins might be hidden within these enigmatic possessions.

While the mysterious creature laid in a guest chamber, the elves observed her belongings. Her opulent garments and jewelry displayed on a nearby table. Círdan, with his ancient wisdom, led the discussion, stroking his beard, saiid, “This woman is unlike any we’ve encountered, her garments and adornments speak of a culture beyond our knowledge. Let us unravel the mysteries they hold.”

Glorfindel agreed, “Indeed. These garments, painted with expensive dyes, are a marvel. And the elasticity in the waistband, unheard of in our craftsmanship.”

Gildor picked up a small piece of clothing and examined it, “Look at these garments, the cups and elastic strings.”

Fearon quiped in quickly, “These were the last pieces of clothings she was wearing so, perhaps it’s her...undergarments.”

A blush crept up Gildor’s face, but he continued, “ Well, now that’s what you call a small clothes. They seem designed not just for practicality but for enhancement. Quite intricate.”

Círdan snorted at Gildor while Glorfindel just raised his eyebrows as Gildor quietly put the undergarment down.

Fearon was examining the metallic strips from her hair, she was intrigued by the metal and their odd shape . She said, “These thin metallic strips, I’ve never seen the like. They match those on her undergarments and pants. What purpose could they serve?”

Nestor, ignoring Fearon’s question spoke, “The rings on her ears, made of metals unfamiliar to us. And this round gold object on her nose, a curious ornament indeed.”

Círdan agreed with both of them, “The richness of her accessories extends to her fingers and ankles. Rings of gold and unknown metals, a silver band with small gems. It’s as if she carries a piece of a distant realm with her. Her clothings are very unfamiliar to me. Maybe she has come from a distance land.”

Glorfindel said quitely, “Her nail painting caught my attention. At first, I thought them naturally dark, but Fearon told me that they were meticulously painted. A cultural practice, perhaps?”

He paused and spoke again, “And the makeup on her face, a touch of artistry. She clearly belongs to a class of sophistication and royalty we’ve not encountered.”

Círdan announced, “We must look at her belongings in the mysterious bag, but we must approach this with caution. These artifacts may hold clues about her origin, and understanding them could shed light on why she’s here.”

The elves exchanged thoughtful glances as Fearon opened the teeth-like closure. As the elves delved into the mysterious woman’s belongings, their initial intent to find potential harm transformed into an intriguing exploration of unfamiliar artifacts. Among the items, they discovered clothing of a similar fashion to what she wore, confirming the uniqueness of her attire. Strips of expensive fabric hinted at a meticulous attention to detail in her possessions.

Gildor picked up clothes that had different color and designs, but structurally, they were similar to the clothes their mysterious guest was wearing. He also noticed a strange but plesant scent coming from each of her clothings.“This clothing, similar to hers, suggests a consistency in her style. A cultural signature, perhaps? And her unworn clothes have been perfumed too. It all speaks richness to me, but then I wonder why she’s suddenly here without anyone.”

Fearon agreed to gildor, “Indeed My Lord, it’s intriguing and this fabric, intricately woven. Such craftsmanship of such small stiches takes a lot of time . Someone needs to be paid a lot for such fine stitching. She might have an extremely good tailor with her. But it can also be that her people are just good at it.”

They looked at the round object with leather straps around both sides.

Fearon exicted, explained “She was wearing it on her wrist. It’s straps served the purpose of holding the metal and glass cylinder on her wirsts. Look at the cylinder. It has three needles inside. One is circling the cylinder with its one end on the centre axis. The other one is doing it too, but it seems that it is much slower than the longest one, and the smallest one doesn’t seem too much. It’s so interesting. Why would someone put a cylinder with moving needles on their wrists? I don’t think it’s a jewel.”

Lumion spoke quickly, “Perhaps it’s a witchcraft. Her bag too seems like a sentinel being with teeth. Maybe she’s-“

Gildor quickly cut him, “Maybe she’s a rich person with artefacts unknown to us. We can only speculate, but unless she answers us, we’ll never know the truth.”

Gildor could see Lumion face turn sour, but he too interested in this mysterious woman belongings to actually acknowledge his sour face.

Círdan, mused , “These objects, though unfamiliar, may hold the key to understanding her purpose here. We must tread carefully in our examination.”

Glorfindel opened a leather pouch with the same teeth-like closure. He picked up small container and brushes from it. He said, “What are these small pots? They seem to contain substances but mostly red, browns and pinks. There is a small container that has a paste similar to her skin colour.I have never seen such pastes and powders . ”

Gildor added on, “And look at these strange tools. A brush? For what purpose? This small wand, it resembles paintbrushes.”

Fearon said quitely,“Perhaps it’s some form of artistry, but don’t you think it’s very similar makeup tints. Yet there are so many . Many whose purpose i don't understand... what are their uses?”

Nestor was more intrigued by the pots. He excitely said, “And these containers, they’re not metal. Some peculiar substance, almost like a hardened liquid. Unseen craftsmanship! Imagine storing herbs in these. It will be so easy to carry and store.”

Círdan looked at tbe pots and said with a perplexed tone, “Curious. And what is written on these small pots? I cannot decipher this language; it’s unlike any we’ve encountered in Middle-earth.”

Lumion who had been silent for a while quiped in to look at it. He looked at the pots, examining the language, shook his head, and said ,” I couldn’t understand these words. They are very similar to Quenya, straight symmetrical letters. They are not rubbish. They have a set pattern like proper language. Could these be symbols of power or some form of enchantment? They wield a certain allure, though.”

Círdan shaked his head. He agreed with Lumion, but his fascination of everything being an enchantment was a little annoying. Gildor knew Lumion’s suspicious nature. He ignored him and continued to examine the pots . He was like Nestor, more interested in the structure of the pot. He said calmly, “The substance feels unlike anything natural.It’s as if it traps the colours within. Maybe it's a kind of metal found where she lives. ”

Glorfindel fished out an otherworldly artifact—a device of glass and metal, its surface adorned with a peculiar rubbery material. This strange object bore no resemblance to the elegant craftsmanship of Elven artifacts. Its surface, cool to the touch, emitted an ethereal glow when caressed. Gazing upon it, the Elves, beings attuned to the natural world, found themselves in awe of the mysterious luminescence. The glass and metal combination, so unlike the materials of Middle-earth, hinted at craftsmanship from a distant and unfamiliar realm. They all were awestruck. It shines so beautifully and when it glowed the glass side showed a portrait of a flower that seemed to be trapped within it. The rubbery substance, with its unique texture, served as a covering for the device. He room was silent as the soft glow illuminated the Elves’ faces with a sense of wonder, akin to witnessing a starlight phenomenon in the deep of night.

It was Círdan who broke the silence, “What enchantment is this? A glass and metal creation, covered in a rubbery substance that lights up upon touch. I have not seen its like in all my years.”

Glorfindel quickly responded “It’s beyond our comprehension. What could this artifact be? A source of light or a tool of some sort? The rubbery covering adds to the mystery.”

Gildor, equally curious, said, “Perhaps it’s a token of power or an ancient artefact from a distant land. The glow suggests magic, but it’s a magic unfamiliar to us. I’ve never encountered such craftsmanship. The glass and metal seem alien, and this rubbery material... Could it be a ward against some unseen force?”

Círdan knew he couldn’t let them delve in such thought or else they’ll grow suspicious. He wanted to know more about this mysterious creature who suddenly appeared into his land and not just threw her into prison because the others took her as a threat. He spoke with an authoritative voice, “We are left to speculate. A device from a realm we can not fathom. Its purpose eludes us, and the symbols etched upon it are a language unknown. Let us handle it with care. Its glow is enchanting, but we must remain vigilant. This object, whatever it may be, is not of Middle-earth.”

Gildor who was still caressing the glass side of the object and looking at the flower portrait that appeared said without looking away, “Should we attempt to unlock its secrets, or would meddling with it bring forth consequences beyond our understanding?”

Fearon said, “We are in uncharted territory. This device challenges our perception of the world. What powers lie within it, we cannot discern. Prehaps we should leave it our little guest.”

Círdan smiled at “our little guest” . He thought to himself at least someone too is interested in this mysterious being. They were about to search for more things, but the maid servant came back to announce that his little guest had woken up and is in distress.

~○~○~○~○~○~○

Taglist : @elvyshiarieko @bobitoo08 @asianbutnotjapanese

Want to be part of my taglist, just drop a message ❤️

~●~●~●~●

Constructive criticism is a must or my goldfish brain 🧠 will perish.

[xandertheundead]

For @mesdelostrescaballeros2024 ‘s Three Caballeros September event!

Week 1 - Zé

September 3rd - Saudade

Sometimes he remembers things that happened forever ago. Not very often, mainly because the memories are faded and fuzzy, faces blurry with no real features, but there were times where he would catch a certain smell or noise that would make him remember.

The clean smell of ivory soap.

Light curtains blowing from a breeze.

A soft warm blanket.

A woman, softly humming a gentle tune that has no real melody.

These things and a few more reminded him always of her.

His Mãe.

There weren’t too many memories, he had gotten lost when he was barely three years old, so sometimes he wondered if the memories he had of her were real and not something he made up to not feel so sad as a child. He had no recollection of his Papa and hoped that was because his small brain could only think of her and not that she was a single mom, who then lost her child. When it was quiet and no one was around he would think of her and get a strange ache in his chest that would grow almost until he could no longer breathe.

The way she would laugh, a little nasally, which he wondered if she had given him her nose because his laugh sometimes sounded like that too.

How she would rock and hold him, a constant movement, as if she were dancing him to sleep which he liked to think was where he got his love for it.

He would wonder what his life would have been like if he hadn’t wandered off, if she had found him after only a few days, held him close as they went back home. Maybe he wouldn’t be so lazy or such a con artist, maybe he would have had a better education and been able to put his smarts towards a conventional goal. Would she have been proud of him if he did well in things like school or sports? Would she be proud of him now?

That thought always gives him such an overwhelming feeling of loss that he panics and has to district himself somehow. He sometimes hates these memories because he had people there for him when he was a child, Nestor and Pedrão’s families, warm and welcoming to him even though he had been just a kid off of the streets. They had loved him like they were his actual parents, made sure he didn’t go hungry and that he had a warm comfortable bed to sleep in each night.

They were his family.

He felt ungrateful when he would get these thoughts in his head, like they weren’t enough for him and they had somehow lacked what his mãe had been. How would he even know? He never really knew her.

Zé let out a loud sigh, mentally pushing all the longing and sad thoughts out of his brain and body with that breath. He shook himself, the goosebumps on his arms rising under his feathers with a small strange chill before it settled. Then, like that, he was okay again and he pushed himself up to go help Nestor in the kitchen, grinning when he saw that the vulture was covered in flour.

“You only needed a cup! How did this happen?” Zé laughed and rolled his eyes when Nestor gave him a very rude hand gesture in response.

Yes. This was his family. Fully and completely

[lionofchaeronea]

A serving scene. It is usually interpreted as Briseis serving Achilles' aged tutor Phoenix, but it has also been suggested that it may represent Hecamede waiting on Nestor. Tondo of an Attic red-figure kylix (the so-called Ilioupersis Cup), signed by the potter Brygos and decorated by the Brygos Painter; ca. 490 BCE. Found at Vulci; now in the Louvre.

[garbinge]

Minimum Wage

Nestor Oceteva x F!Galindo!Reader

Day 02 these April Prompts: “Minimum Wage”

Summary: You left the Galindo name and life behind, but it always seems to come back after you.  

A/N: Just something short, there’s something so intriguing to me about a Galindo sister who just ~hates~ the family business. 

Word Count: 1.4k words

Warnings: All my fics are 18+ regardless of content. Angsty, very angsty. 

Mayans Taglist: @drabbles-mc @justreblogginfics @narcolini (Not sure how many individual Mayans fics i’ll have in the future but happy to add anyone to any potential future fics!)

Part 2 

“Come on, can I please drive you home?” Nestor pleaded with you as he stood awkwardly in the middle of the run down diner in his slacks and suit jacket. 

“I told you, that’s not my home.” You said as you passed him with two plates in your hand. 

Carefully, you placed them on the table farthest from the door and asked if they needed anything else, taking out your guest check ready to take notes. After writing down their updated drink order you retreated back behind the counter and poured two more cups of coffee. 

“I have strict orders to not leave until I get you to agree to come home.” Nestor was now a step or two closer to the counter now. 

“Well, you better make yourself comfortable because my shift isn’t over for another 2 hours.” 

Your eyes didn’t even bother to meet him as you said it, but you took one of the coffees you just poured and left it on the third seat from the corner on the diner counter for him before you moved to take more orders. 

The lunch rush died down, with only a few minutes left of your shift, you made your way back to Nestor, pouring him what was probably his 3rd cup of coffee since being here.

“I’m not coming home.” You said as the liquid poured. 

“I know.” Nestor said nodding and not making eye contact with you. 

Your eyes jumped from the mug to his eyes. His hair had grown a little since you last saw him, his grip was firm  around the coffee mug, you took in his outfit fully, you never envisioned Nestor like this, that it would ever get to this point. 

Being Miguel’s younger sister, you grew up with Nestor. While Miquel would hang out with the eldest Oceteva, you would be stuck with the younger, both of the big brothers being forced to bring the younger siblings with them. Over time your relationship evolved from being stuck with Nestor to actually enjoying your time together. You started hanging out more on your own, you invited him over and you’d hang out for hours, sometimes days if your dad was out of town. 

It was sickening to you, to see how much things changed again. Nestor always felt like yours. Not in a possessive way but in a way that only you knew him, his secrets, his flaws, his mannerisms, his favorite things, his pet peeves. That was all information that only you knew, and now there was a whole new set of secrets, of flaws, of mannerisms that Miguel knew and you didn’t. That broke you. 

“Then why are you here?” You asked him genuinely. You believed that he truthfully knew there was no chance he was going to be bringing you home. Because just like he felt like yours for all those ways you knew him, you felt like his for the same reasons. 

You left home the minute you turned 18, similar to how Nestor fled to the Navy, you fled to here. You got a minimum wage job, a few of them, and made it work. You had a decent place, you paid your bills, you changed your name, completely separated yourself from the Galindo business. It came as a shock when you heard Nestor had done the complete opposite as you when he returned from the Navy. You had written him letters, you two talked frequently, and he never mentioned once about his plans for after. He just stopped writing. Then showed up to the diner one night very similarly to how he did now. 

“To see you.” His eyes now met yours. That look, it broke you. It was hard to stare at him and really look at him, it reminded you of everything you could have had, everything that was supposed to be yours but was robbed by his decision to go neck deep into the Galindo Cartel, by your brother who was dragging him in even deeper. 

“Doesn’t it hurt?” Your words left your mouth before you could think. “What’s the point of this, Nestor? I’m not coming home, you’re not leaving. Why put ourselves through this shit.” 

“Because I miss you.” He said without hesitation. 

It sounded like a pick up line, but you knew it wasn’t. Nestor wasn’t going to play a game with you, things were too complicated for that. If he wanted a quick fuck he could get that easily, he wasn’t hard on the eyes, he had access to money if it really was finding itself to be a difficult task but you knew that wasn’t what he was here for. 

“I miss you too.” You closed your eyes before turning and putting the coffee pot back. “But this, this isn’t going to help anyone.” 

“I don’t care about anyone. I care about you.” Nestor had planned this out, he didn’t come here on a whim, it was on Miguel’s orders, yes, but he didn’t come here without thinking through his words. It was something the Nestor you grew up with never did, but Navy Nestor always did. With every letter he sent you, there was thought, intention, the service matured him in a way that your pining over him turned from a childhood crush to the man you wanted to marry. The man you knew would be a good husband. Protective. Funny. Thoughtful. Smart. Aware. But he took all those traits and gave them to Miguel instead. 

“You care about Miguel.” 

“And you don’t?” He retorted back to you. 

“He’s my big brother. Of course I do, but I can’t spend my time worrying about him–caring about him, he made his choice just like I did.” You lifted your hands up in defeat. 

“You work minimum wage at 4 jobs.” Nestor didn’t mean for it to come out harsh but it did, he just meant to put things into perspective for you. And he did. 

“And yet, I’m happier than I ever was then.” Your words also didn’t mean to come out harsh but, it did. 

“You gave up everything.” Nestor phrased it weirdly, it wasn’t so much a statement but it wasn’t so much a question either, somewhere in the middle of both. 

“Yea, you did.” You said staring deep into his eyes. 

It got silent, things got tense while you took a deep breath and kicked off the counter behind you. 

“In another life, maybe we chose each other.” You hoped the statement offered some type of closure, you knew if you didn’t end this now it would never stop. “But in this one, we made our choices clear and we have to live with that.”

Nestor nodded, he stood up from the seat and reached to his back pocket for his wallet. 

You lifted your hand up and shook your head. “On me.” 

Nestor hesitated, it didn’t feel right but he also knew it was barely a dollar worth of coffee so he nodded and turned to exit the diner. The bells from the door jingled as he opened it, the breeze hit you along with the realization of the situation.

“Nes.” You called out his nickname as he turned to look at you. “I wish things were different.” You wanted to leave him with some kind of peace, but deep down you knew it was also for you too. 

“Me too.” He nodded his hand still keeping the door open. “I’ll see you.” 

With that he closed the door, letting his hands fall into his pockets while he retreated to his black escalade that was parked in the lot. 

Your eyes looked down behind the counter, where your duffel bag sat, packed with all the things you needed to start new again. Having your own life where your brother knew where to find you wasn’t ideal anymore, you couldn’t live with one leg still connected to the Galindo family, so you knew this was the best thing moving forward. You’d find new jobs, you already had one lined up, it was a promotion too, not a minimum wage gig but something that paid more and was way more stable with the hours. The life you wished you would have had with him, but you were going to make for yourself at least. 

“No,” You shook your head as you mumbled under your breath. “You won’t.” 

Part 2

[tristayranambrosio]

Notorious/Altruistic Day 5 - February 22 DWC

(Keeping it going as I desperately try to keep up with @daily writing challenge seems I'm gonna be a day behind though) “You’re scowling again.” Nestor sings at me playfully. I growl at the middle aged Elf dressed in the finery of a noble with an affinity for hues bright enough to make one’s eyes hurt. He was a riot of violet and sunset with waist long hair that was cuffed and beaded in artful chaos with a whole ear cuff and what he thought was a -scandalous- eyebrow hoop that he had clearly gotten when rebelling against his ‘upper city’ parents in his long ago youth. The Director of the Crimson Curtain Nestor, having forsaken a surname but kept the fortune to ‘slum’ with the true life blood of the city. He was graying at the temples and I think after too many years being someone he wasn’t Nestor the Notorious Cabaret Lord of The Crimson was now unabashedly who he was. I almost hate him for that freedom, the way he could be himself without a care for what the world saw, love as he loved… His Partner the Tauren Florist cast the Aging elf a warning glance for tripping my fuse while I was behind the bar given my tendency to break bottles when I gripped them too hard. I had taken a part time gig that I didn’t need to stop my clan from asking inconvenient questions, they wouldn’t accept that I just wanted to play in our band, that I felt at home somewhere at last… With Estibahn the cockiest Goblin bastard bassist… And my beautiful Rose.  I grunt and turn my back because I am scowling… because my Rose… who I remind myself is -not- mine is crooning a love song to one of the women in the crowd. Nestor turns to what I’m -decidedly- not looking at as I wipe down the bar, “Our little star, It’s beautiful don’t you think Jezz? How the boy is so altruistic with his romance… his affections. That he still makes them all feel so desired, wanted but never crosses lines. Its a delicate little dance.” “Isn’t that his -job-” I toss over my shoulder and I hate myself for it, my jealous stupid self pretending that I’m not wishing I was that bitch in the audience, with his hand cupping my chin singing into my lips while dressed in glittering costumes and jewels of teal, contrasting his perfect form against the overwhelming hues of sunset. “Oh come on now Jezzy!” Nestor swats my arm and I whirl to look at where this elf had the nerve to -touch- me like it’s some sour fruit stuck to me even long after the playful swat had gone, “He’s not employed as a Gigolo though gods above I’m certain we’d make a fortune if he was. No this is charity. And it almost brings a tear to the eye.” “Charity?” I scoff gripping tight to my bitterness as my turn forced me to see Trist lean to slip from the stage to straddle that woman’s chair with her in it, still singing like a siren as she gazes up at him with naked desire. Ancestors help me… He’s so different when they look at him like that… unashamed of their appreciation. I make myself finish hating myself… hating that I lash out and say the words I want to turn inward about the person who makes me feel alive, “You mean telling them pretty lies, being some fantasy for tips… its all a smoke show like everything here.”

Then Nestor’s words turned dark, hard, and cold, “But if you hurt him, Jezza. If you break my boy, You will always regret it. So stop -growling- and tell him how you feel before you let him slip away. Especially with Archstone -skulking- around again.” The horror in my face and form has me locked in place, did this- did he know what that would mean!? He knows?! How!? Nestor hopped off his stool and reopened his fan with a thwap and purred to his mate, “Now lets go get a closer look, shall me my beautiful bull?” I watch them in abject awe and Palehoof dips an understanding nod my way, hand always lightly brushing Nestor’s lower back with the gentlest hands I’d ever seen. I’m too stunned to rage… how did they know?! I- Have fallen in way too deep.

[drabbles-mc]

Okay, so I just spent all morning going down the rabbit hole of our past shenanigans and I am here with MORE.

Motorcycle Boys: Dating Edition

Obviously a lot of fic is centered around relationships with these men, but, personally, I think they get a lot more credit than they deserve, so let's drag them a little.

Who says I love you by the third date? Who's most likely to cry the first time they have sex? Who doesn't even realize they were dating? Who just looks around one day and realize their girl moved in without them noticing? Who thinks they are dating but they aren't? (And obviously whatever other silly scenario you can think of)

Okay but these men DO get more credit than they deserve. I'm one of the worst offenders but it's just wishful thinking because every single one of these men is a certifiable mess 😂

The way I'm losing my ever-loving shit over thinking about who doesn't realize that their girl is just gradually moving in with them. 😂 I feel like this would be easy to do with a bunch of the guys because most of them are just never home. Like, they just come home from a run one day and realize that oh, shit, all of her stuff is here now. 😂 Tig would be one of these guys. He just thinks that his girl stays over a lot and doesn't realize that "a lot" is actually every night. Because, you know, she moved in. I want to put Angel here because I firmly believe that he's dumb enough not to notice but I think that he's too much of a commitophobe to let a girl spend that much time at his place lmao

On the flipside of this I think that Jax would be the type to not notice that his girl is moving out without telling him. He gets home from the clubhouse one day and he's back to only owning like two plates, one cup, and the curtains are gone. It's only then that he realizes that shit has been going missing a lot over the last few weeks.

Opie & Angel are kings of the, "what do you mean we aren't dating?" club. Because neither of them can communicate worth a damn. 😂 So then one day when they see the girl they've been talking to and hanging out with flirting with someone else they get all butt-hurt but when they actually bring it up, you know she's just going to clap back with something about their lack of communication or lack of commitment. As she should. It's her right.

Happy is also the type to assume that he's dating someone without ever saying it but that's because his facial expressions and his love language are difficult to process without having the goddamn Lowman Rosetta Stone.

Juice will say I love you on the third date and he will cry the first time he has sex. I don't think I need to explain this at all. Just look at that man and you will know it to be true 😂

Creeper and Hank are also throwing, "I love you" out there as soon as humanly possible. They're so valid for that. It's a lot but I'll allow it. 😌

Gilly and Coco have, on more than one occasion, not realized that they landed themselves in a relationship. I feel like they both are just such, "Yea this is just what we're doing idk" kind of guys not realize that "what they're doing" is having a relationship with someone. Clueless men that I adore so much. Someone will call them out on it, or they'll try to call each other out on it just to be annoying and the other just responds with, "It's not like that." Spoiler Alert: it's exactly like that.

Nestor also doesn't realize that he's landed himself in a relationship but tbh that's because he's pouring all of his attention and energy into whoever he is working for at the time. He's too busy working on keeping his boss/boyfriend to worry about the girlfriend he's accidentally procured along the way.

These men are all so messy. I do love to fix them but honestly this is making me think that I should just let them flounder around a lot more often 😂😂😂

[maria-rayro]

a little bonus (coffee shop!au)

Granthem had the day off today. Charles, in turn, seemed to have never heard of such a concept at all, so he, as usual, ran off to work early in the morning. He was supposed to shoot a segment with his crew for an upcoming episode of the show, and afterward he planned to sit in on the script and editing. In short, he was, as usual, overwhelmed with work and wouldn't allow anyone to pull him out from it.

Du'Met, after making him breakfast, did some cleaning first, then read a book for a while, made dinner ahead of time. And pretty soon he got bored. In the past he had always found something to do on his days off, but now it was as if nothing really interested him anymore. It's like there's always something distracting him.

In the end, at three o'clock in the afternoon, he could not stand it any longer. He got dressed and left the house. On his way to the studio the man went into a coffee shop and took a cup of americano for Charles, and then walked at a leisurely pace to the right address.

He had already been there once - not inside, but waiting on the doorstep. It made it easier to give the man a little surprise without having to ask him for an address beforehand.

Granthem quietly knocks on the right door and stops to wait. It opens rather quickly; Du'Met sees a tall young man in front of him. "Hello?" the man says uncertainly, clearly not understanding why anyone would knock on their office.

"Is Charlie here?" asks Dumet quietly.

"Um… here, but who are you?" asks Mark, it seems - Granthem has heard such a name from Charles recently.

"Barista" he replies casually, and demonstrates the cup of coffee in his hands before walking straight into the room, ignoring the bewildered Mark.

Lonnit was sitting at a cluttered desk in the corner of the room. He was slightly hunched over and rubbing his temple with fingers, clearly already tired from the nervous strain.

Two girls were sitting by the window: one was looking at him a little bewildered and worried, while the other was slightly frowning, looking at the stranger interestedly from head to toe. Another girl was sitting on a chair, wrapped in plaid, and napping.

Granthem ignored the silent questions addressed to him and calmly walked over to the Charles table. The man was still unaware of his presence. Du'Met calmly and silently places a cup of coffee on his desk, and only then he flinches and looks up at him in confusion. "Granthem!" he says in surprise, immediately straightening up in his chair and looking up at the barista. "I didn't even expect you could come," he smiles a little. The man continues to stare at him in silence, then points a finger at the coffee. "Oh, thank you… Really, I'm insanely grateful. Cause I've been working so hard here I've completely forgotten about everything. And there's still so much to do…" he looks away from Du'Met and suddenly notices several confused looks behind him. "Oh, you're still here?"

"We didn't go anywhere. We're going to shoot again in an hour anyway," Nestor answers him.

"О… yeah, right… um…" he somewhat awkwardly licks his parched lips, shifting his gaze from the crew to the barista. "That's… um... Granthem, he's my, um…" Lonnit falters a bit; it looks like he clearly wasn't ready for this kind of conversation yet and was kind of unsure of how to label their relationship. This is charming. Du'Met even smiles a little under his mask, keeping a warm glance on the director's face.

"Barista?" prompts Erin somewhat uncertainly, and Jamie beside her smiles.

"Yes." director says quietly.

"Your barista?" Jamie smiles even wider. "Is that some sort of a pet name? What does he call you then? Visitor?"

"Jamie!" in a loud whisper, Erin tries to calm her down by nudging the girl in the side with an elbow.

Charles sighs heavily, rubbing the bridge of his nose before looking at Granthem again. He clearly reads the silent "see who I have to work with?" in the director's eyes, and he can't help but smile.

Not wanting to embarrass him even more in front of the others (or maybe, on the contrary, wanting to embarrass him just a little more), he leans toward him. "Don't overwork. I'm expecting you for dinner," he says quietly, so that only Charlie can hear him, and then straightens up. After glancing around at the rest of the crew, he calmly heads for the exit and walks away, leaving Charles with a slight blush on his cheeks.

[justpostsyeet]

Mîr Vin Universe: Origins

Ch 2 : Bag, the living guardian

Círdan, with ancient wisdom etched in his gaze, observed the woman Glorfindel had brought back. Although physically unharmed, her presence emitted an aura of profound strength that caught the perceptive eyes of the Elven lord. Gazing upon her, Círdan felt as though he couldn't see through her being as if she was not an edain but something more powerful. Her aura, however, held a uniqueness that defied easy classification. It lacked the overpowering resonance of the Valar or the majestic presence of the Maiar. Instead, it exuded an enigmatic and tranquil quality. Like peering into a dark abyss that bore no hint of fear, her aura seemed to carry an aura of serenity, wrapping her in an intriguing veil of mystery. Círdan, attuned to the subtle energies of Middle-earth, found himself captivated by this unexpected visitor and the enigma she brought to the tranquil haven of the Grey Havens. Their visitor seemed to be in a deep slumber. He asked his servants to undressed her and clean her. Then bring all of her belonging to the court hall so, he could observe the threat.

He knew that she couldn't be a threat something in his heart told too but he knew heart couldn't be trusted. Celebrimbor has told him that his heart tells him to trust Annatar and Círdan knows the result all too well to let himself get caught in it. He went to court hall were he had called few of his closest so nobody gets to alarmed and take rash decision. They were all waiting for them and when he told them his thoughts they seemed to agree with him. The woman seem nonthreating but that doesn't mean she can be trusted. Many of them doesn't seem to agree with the peaceful aura that Círdan felt while trying to look through her. All of them, even Glorfindel and Nestor seemed to agree that all they felt was a void when they tried looking into her but Círdan felt this pull like this was some peace that he had felt before. As time stood still,they all patiently waited was the arrival of the servants .

In the private chamber were the stranger visitor rested, Head Servants Neion and Fearon was given the task of undressing and dressing the mysterious woman. Neion and Fearon meticulously carried out the task unfolding the layers of her intriguing attire. As they peeled away the cotton tunic and broad pants, the richness of the fabric and the exquisite patterns, not woven but painted with expensive dyes, hinted at a wealth unfamiliar to the elves.

The waistband, lacking a drawstring, revealed a remarkable elasticity that gently cinched at her waist without discomfort. Even her undergarments, dyed with opulent hues, displayed a level of affluence that went beyond mere pretense. The small undergarments, with cups and elastic strings, suggested a design meant to enhance rather than compromise her features, and the intricate hook at the back hinted at the need for assistance in donning such garments. From head to toe, every detail spoke of opulence. Metallic strips and elastic bands adorned her hair, matching those found on her undergarments and pants. Rings adorned her ears, made of both gold and other metals unfamiliar to the elves. A round gold object adorned her nose, and various finger rings, some gold, some not, adorned her hands. Unseen by elves before, she wore a band-like silver accessory on her ankles, embellished with small unknown gems. One if her wrist bore a strange object, round metallic box that was covered by glass to display what's inside it. The insides seemed to move in a rhythmical circle . The whole contraption was tied around her wrist with a small leather belt.

Her nails, initially mistaken for being naturally dark, revealed themselves to be meticulously painted in a deep color. Her face displayed remnants of makeup, and her lush, well-cared-for hair cascaded down, framing a countenance that exuded both health and refinement. In this careful inspection, the elves found themselves face to face with a being whose appearance bespoke not just elegance but a powerful status. As they cleaned her delicate skin they noticed that her strength was that of a delicate princess. They couldn't fathom why this woman was suddenly found in the forest.

They bought her clothes and other belongings the court hall. As the elves delved into the mysterious woman's belongings, their initial intent to find potential harm transformed into an intriguing exploration of unfamiliar artifacts. Her pouch were extremely sturdy and was hard to open. Fearon politely told the reason for her failure to open the bag,"Her bags are unlike any we've encountered. No strings, no hooks. Instead, a magical closure with tiny teeth-like objects covering the edge."

Glorfindel, the ever curious one started pulling the things till he found a way to open bag. After a few moments, he happily declared "Look at this small contraption. When moved forward, it closes the teeth and binds them together. Move it backward, and the teeth open, revealing the container inside." Gildor exclaimed."Ingenious! A method of securing belongings with a mere motion. The craftsmanship is exceptional. Lore master Lumion, have you seen such enchantments before?"

Lumion was equally intrigued by the contraption. He himself opened and closed the bag several time before he said, "This is a fascinating mechanism. No strings, no clasps. It appears to be a combination of magic and intricate design. A security unlike our conventional methods." Círdan quipped, "The simplicity and effectiveness of this closure speak volumes. She has mastered the art of containment in ways we never imagined."

Fearon unable to contain her excitement said, "Shall we attempt to open it, Lord Círdan? To understand the mechanism better and see what other wonders her bags might hold?"

Círdan, equally intrigued and excited managedto sound regal lord like "Proceed, Fearon. Uncover the secrets of this magical closure. It is yet another testament to the ingenuity of the woman from beyond our shores."

The woman's artifacts, with their enchanting designs, continued to unfold a narrative of a realm filled with magic and creativity, leaving the elves eager to discover more.The elves gathered around the woman's unusual bag, eyeing the magical closure with a mixture of curiosity and intrigue. They exchanged puzzled glances, unsure of how to manipulate the enigmatic mechanism. Fearon, with a keen eye for mechanisms, took the lead in attempting to unlock the secrets held within.

Fearon cautiously moved the small contraption forward, causing the tiny teeth to close tightly, sealing the bag. After a moment of careful consideration, she skillfully slid it backward, and to the elves' amazement, the teeth opened, revealing the contents within. A roar erupted

"Incredible! A simple sliding motion, and it opens like a flower blooming. The craftsmanship is extraordinary."

"Such a mechanism! It's as if the bag is alive, responding to our touch. Perhaps it's enchanted with a form of sentience."

"A living bag, you say? An interesting notion, Glorfindel. Lumion, what are your thoughts on this enchanting closure?"

Lumion cleared his throat signalling other to calm down."While the idea of a living bag is poetic, it is more likely a product of advanced craftsmanship and magic. A melding of art and functionality."

As they explored the contents within, the elves began to form various theories about the nature of the bag.

Gildor mused for a while and said."It could be a guardian, protecting the belongings within. Responding only to the touch of its rightful owner. What if it attacks if we touch the belongings inside the bag?"

Glorfindel was now equally concerned about the sudden attack from an unknown creature but he tried to be brave and wise. "A living bag, a guardian, or an extension of its owner—each theory holds a certain charm. Regardless, it is a testament to our own abilities and if this guardian knows that in our heart we don't posses to harm the belonging but merely look at it then it shall not harm us." As the elves contemplated the bag's mysteries, the enchanting closure continued to captivate their imagination, leaving them to ponder the depths of the magic woven into even the simplest aspects of the woman's belongings.