#something something two opposite ends of the child soldier spectrum

[stuck-in-the-ghost-zone]

something something jay being indifferent to a father being unable to see his daughter because of his work obligation vs gillion being extremely bothered by it

[holy-obsession-batman]

Hear me out: Itachi Uchiha reincarnated as Bruce Wayne. Brutachi, if you will

Broke: Itachi or any isekai-ed shinobi would clash with Batman and disdain his no kill rule.

Woke: Bruce Wayne is someone reincarnated!Itachi could grow into

---

Okay okay so if I quickly round up what matches:

black-haired boy, broody loner, man of self-imposed rules, lying to keep people at arm's length, traumatized quiet thinker who then dedicates his whole life to his ideology, striving for goodness, sacrificing themselves by taking on an heavy burden, meticulous planner, genius who masters a truck-ton of martial arts and then create his own blend...

(Itachi’s memories carrying over is as good a reason as any for Bruce’s OP martial arts level when he didn’t even start training from a really young age.)

---

Of course, beyond those relatively surface stuff, Batman and Itachi appear to be at opposite ends of the morality spectrum: the idealist with the no-killing rule / the shinobi with enough grim pragmatism to resolve himself to kill his whole family, AND who managed to out-Talk no Jutsu Naruto.

Still, there are nuances in these two positions that make them potentially a bit closer. Bruce is an optimist but in a 'hope for the better, prepare for the worst' kinda way. he's Bat 'contingency plan' man. Also he’s not quite a blind idealist, he considered the other position (killing) when training under Ra's, and then chose to reject it.

On the other hand, no killing is what Itachi yearned for originally, but he was forced to let it go as an unrealistic dream in the shinobi war world. Also, his words to Sasuke as Edo Tensei show him questioning his deeds, whether there was another way --the right way. We can't know if this change of heart is because of what he learns as Edo Tensei (that Sasuke learned the truth and wants to destroy Konoha and Naruto Talk no Jutsu finally taking effect), or something he's been thinking about for a long time, but kept silence because it was too late (once the Massacre was done, best to at least protect the clan reputation).

Now, I can agree that if you have a dimension-traveling Itachi meet Batman as is, he would think that the no-kill rule is foolish and unrealistic (even Naruto wasn't that naive!), because all he knows is the shinobi worldview.

However, I'm proposing you consider a Bruce Wayne who recalls the memories of his past life as Itachi Uchiha when he sees his parents get killed -- who have already lived ten years of happy childhood in this world, with a completely different education than the shinobi child soldiering.

This world isn't peaceful -- his parents are the proof -- but it's certainly not as dire as the shinobi world. I don't think that no killing would be the first conclusion he jumps to; rather, that brings back his dream of being the one to bring peace (after climbing to the top by any mean necessary) on the table.

On the other hands, his education as Bruce Wayne put perspective on his past life's choices, as in: genocide is always wrong (nazi Germany example -- you can even sprinkle that with Wayne family Jew origins hc). Also, he has access to so many philosophy books. Itachi would 100% read everything that could help answer his existential questions and form his nindo ideology.

So I think that it's clear in his head from the start that he will do something. The question he grapples with throughout his self-finding journey across the world training under all kind of masters and the League of Assassins, is whether he will embrace his way as Itachi once again -- the 'end justify the means' shinobi ruthlessness -- or walk a different path.

Ra's extended hand is the incarnation of the first choice, and his final decision is to reject it, instead returning to Gotham to become Batman.

The Bat roots in Bruce Wayne’s childhood fear, and Gotham aesthetic—it has absolutely no connection to ‘Itachi’, and it’s on purpose: this is a new start, a different path he’s following

he’s a protector, as he always meant to be

he’s Vengeance, too, so those he protects don’t have to lose themselves for revenge (like Sasuke did)

he won’t let anybody die, because he can.

The Rogues

softness and compassion is his natural tendency, respecting an enemy/not judging people forced by necessity to break law and bend morality is a shinobi thing.

Still the shinobi background makes Batachi very good at compartmentalizing the respect and empathy he may feel for an opponent and the nose breaking he’s doing.

however this world can afford to keep the law breakers alive, so there goes all his soft heart’s impulse control

the concept of the rehabilitation system is like the incarnation of all his hopes, or something of a dream come true.

also he surprises himself feeling some sort of nostalgia of the Akatsuki when faced with the Rogue colorful craziness.

the Joker however, Batachi despises, because he does evil for kicks and challenge the very purpose of the rehabilitation system

The love interests

Now this is something of a hitch in my characterization, cuz nothing says ooc like womanizer!Itachi.

can’t picture Brutachi fooling around with models à la Brucie, because kunoichi infiltration and assassination techniques are a thing he’d be extremely wary of.

Maybe if you portray him a bit on the Battinson end of the Bruce-spectrum? Wearing closed-off goth weirdo on his sleeve

Talia makes senses, still. They meet when Brutachi is training in the League under Ra’s and pondering one existential crisis or three. The League in a way is an incarnation of the shinobi path to Itachi, and so is Talia: she’s strong, sharp, dangerous, a cunning liar but true to her word with a warrior’s sense of honor, and earnestly fights for a greater cause—even if Brutachi comes to realize that it’s a cause he can’t endorse and tainted with Ra’s megalomania.

Even after he rejects the LoA, there’s a nobleness in the way Talia is torn between love for him and the duty her father dictates—a dilemma that resonates with the one he had, once.

as for Selina, I can see Catwoman playfully flirting at Batachi in an attempt to get his guard down—which backfires into raising his guard instead, because of his trained wariness of seduction specialists.

still the BatCat chase puts Batachi at ease, in that the Cat is a pleasant opponent to fight with—her mastery of stealth and balance is shinobi-like, but she doesn’t try for lethal, so it’s a bit like a spar?

on the other hand, as far as Talia felt like a kindred spirit in shinobi philosophy, Selina is the polar opposite. Discipline, duty, sacrifice—none of that. She’s a Free Spirit, refuses to bow to anyone, and that’s it’s own brand of fascinating—along with the heart of gold she hides under her feisty impulsiveness.

grudging fondness and trust builds up.

so in short, Brutalia is kindred spirit and BatCat opposites attract.

Robin

The reason our favorite broody loner chooses to take in Dick Grayson is not that he sees himself so much as he sees Sasuke in him.

(cute and pure and then losing his family to a murder and burning in revenge)

However because he vowed that Batman would do different, different than Itachi, he lets DG in. No lying, no pushing him away, instead be by his side to help him through things, treat him seriously like an equal and most of all let him take part in the action

it so happens that shinobi conditioning skew a tiny bit his perception of acceptable occupation for a child—no qualms with child solider training (bar the conditioning to kill) because it’s useful skills that will better his survival chances, and Robin is the one asking for it, right? (A biiit too much of respect of the child’s agency.)

cue the unclear relationship between Bruce and Dick, in which Bruce is a mentor and a parent and an older sibling all rolled in one.

and then the Boy Wonder influences Bruce, slowly eroding him further away from ‘Itachi’.

Brutachi adopting Jason, when originally he would never has thought himself worthy/good enough/adapted to the caring of a child, is something only possible because the evolution Dick Grayson caused in him.

(and then Jason’s death is a wake up call, but then Tim barges in his life, and so the circle of Batkids go on, I leave it to your imagination…)

Now picture this: Edotensei!Itachi is Batachi who was sucked back into this world. Picture his words to Sasuke (that he should have involved him from the beginning and stuff) with ‘father of six to ten who has made some emotional progress’ Brutachi subtext.

Feeling the angst? Here comes the crack: the Bats send Jason with a dimension traveling device of some kind to retrieve their Batdad.

Jason ‘Daddy Issue’ Todd meets Sasuke ‘Avenger’ Uchiha.

Jason ‘why didn’t you kill the Joker’ Todd meets Sasuke ‘I will kill all those who forced my brother to kill (our clan)’ Uchiha.

They get along like a house on fire.

I will probably do a dedicate prompt on that last part.

(Masterlist)

[kindness-ricochets]

ur thoughts on wylan and kaz? as characters or ur general hc's for them together after soc or anything else. just ur general thoughts on these characters in tandem.

In writing my response, I rambled for a bit and may and may not have actually answered your question... so while I hope this interests you and is what you meant, feel free to drop a line if I completely missed the mark!

They’re perfect opposites—by which I mean entirely different in all the ways they’re the same.

Wylan and Kaz share an almost absolute emptiness of coherent thought regarding themselves, Wylan emotionally and Kaz physically. Kaz always pushes himself too hard, he never sleeps, he’s basically made of coffee and spite. Wylan can overlook any level of mistreatment because he is so thoroughly conditioned to it, except that he genuinely believes this can be a form of love.

As a result, both deal with grievous personal wrongs using a loved one as a proxy.

Kaz has every reason to hate Pekka Rollins as the architect of his trauma and sometimes he does acknowledge this. He’ll have lines about Pekka taking everything from him. That he “had a lot of things”. It’s about Jordie, always. Avenging Jordie’s death is a perfectly valid motivator, but Kaz takes it to an extreme degree. (This is an interesting contrast between him and Inej, too. Inej recognizes that what was done to her was wrong; though deeply traumatized by it, she is able to recognize that she was mistreated, that she can seek revenge for herself and others like her.)

Wylan has every reason to hate his father. But he doesn’t. Not only doesn’t he, he blames himself every time. Jan wanted a real son, a proper heir, it’s Wylan’s fault; who else would love him enough to be honest with him? It’s only when he learns about Marya that Wylan can begin to process what his father truly is. Eight years of abuse culminating in attempted murder and public humiliation is one thing… not at all intended to downplay the horror of Marya’s situation, not at all! Just that it’s the only way Wylan is able to begin to process his feelings toward his father.

Maybe as an aspect of this, maybe as a coincidence to it, both are very conscious of the people are them—it’s just that Kaz’s consciousness is ruthlessly pragmatic while Wylan’s is sweet. Kaz is always aware of every player, how to use them, and how to manipulate them. Wylan is concerned—about Jesper losing his guns, about Nina catching cold in her skimpy outfit, about Alys who was sweet and silly and meant no harm to anyone. A perfect example is their conversation about Jesper.

[“]Who knows? Jesper may even win his revolvers back.” “I hope so,” said Wylan as they hopped onto a browboat crowded with tourists and headed south down the Stave. “You would.” “What’s that supposed to mean?” “Someone like Jesper wins two hands and starts to call it a streak. Eventually he loses, and that just leaves him hungrier for the next run of good luck. The house relies on it.” Then why make him walk into a gambling den?

Both have a personal connection to Jesper; Kaz does his closest approximation to loving him as a brother, while Wylan’s little crush is starting to feel like maybe something more. And they have opposite approaches to his addiction. Kaz uses it. Ruthlessly. (Granted, this is Kaz at his lowest, but it’s not especially different from how he treated Jesper in the beginning of Six of Crows.) Wylan wants to acknowledge his problem and help him avoid his addiction. He doesn’t want Jesper to have to suffer the loss of something important to him. This also shows in how Wylan and Kaz think about each other. Near the end of Six of Crows, Kaz essentially thinks that he doesn’t care about Wylan’s dyslexia because Wylan has other talents, other uses. Wylan thinks near the middle of Crooked Kingdom that he knows Kaz had other motives, but he still helped Wylan a lot, and is a friend. Kaz’s evaluations are weighed by use, Wylan’s by emotional impact.

Now I’m going to get nerdy. Even more so. When I did developmental psychology, my favorite was always Erikson, who essentially broke human development into stages of crisis and resolution. The 4th is “industry vs. inferiority”—basically, competence. And they resolve to extreme opposite ends of the spectrum. Kaz is industrious, competent and capable, determined from the moment he was reborn in that canal. He doesn’t stop. He makes plans and acts on them. Wylan feels inferior, and often struggles—even with things he knows how to do, he needs to be told to do them, or can’t quite put two and two together about the situation around him. (The fact that Wylan’s crisis comes to a more positive resolution, that he begins to develop competence, throughout Crooked Kingdom is… frankly, wonderful. Wylan wasn’t inherently bad at things. He just didn’t have support to grow.)

These opposite resolutions also relate to where they fall on Maslow’s hierarchy of needs. Kaz is left without the most basic things, physiological and safety needs, things like food, water, and shelter. He has to adapt and he has to adapt fast—because he’s alone. And if he’s going to survive, if he’s going to see Jordie given justice, he needs to get to work. Wylan has those needs met, placing him at the point of psychological needs—belongingness, love, esteem. Jan took care of Wylan’s basic needs, but dealt him blow after blow toward his psychological needs through isolation and emotional abuse. This highlights another difference: Kaz’s damage wasn’t dealt by someone who hated him. Pekka was just indifferent. The Barrel was full of lost children who would take a mouthful of bread from a weaker boy because they needed it to survive. It was indifference, for Kaz. But for Wylan, it was at best disdain, at worst hatred.

This sets them apart from the other Crows. Inej was 14 when she was taken by slavers. Jesper was around 16 when he was sent to Ketterdam for university. Nina was 16 or 17 when the Fjerdans took her captive. Matthias was I think 11 when he lost his family, which places him just on the cusp of two of Erikson’s stages, but the relevant resolution is to the fifth stage of identity vs. confusion—basically, “Who am I, and who can I become?” Those four developed competence in a more or less healthy way (purely in terms of competence since two were basically child soldiers, but still). Whereas Kaz overcompensates with relentlessness and Wylan freezes up. Both have this sort of jagged place inside them at exactly that point, that the others simply don’t have.

To me, this explains why Kaz and Wylan have the weakest balance between personal and professional lives. Kaz is always plotting, scheming. He has to learn to take a break from the monster and be the man. Wylan is locked up in his own mind. In his first narrated chapter, his first narrated page, he tells us that he feels out of place and doesn’t even know where to put his hands to look normal. Kaz is ready to take over the world while Wylan just wants to exist in his own little corner of it.

[dr-spencer-reids-queen]

Meant to Be

Characters: Spencer Reid x Maximoff!Reader, Wanda Maximoff, minor characters

Word Count: 2.6k

Warnings: fluff, minor angst

Summary: As a Maximoff, all you ever wanted to do was stay close to your family and protect them, but you were sent away to a summer camp for years. While there, you met a friend who you learned to love. However, your parents died, and you and your siblings underwent experiments that turned you into supers. You have a duty to protect innocent people from bad guys, but you never forgot about the boy from the camp... until he gets caught in your life.

summer camp @crossoverbingo

trust and vows @trope-bingo

superheroes/superpowers @foundfamilybingo​

crossover @marvelfluffbingo​

betrayal @cmbingo​

Author’s Note: If you have any requests, please send them in! this is unbeta’d and every mistake is all on me.

It sucks being the younger sibling of three because you don’t really get a say when they tell you to do something. With your parents being the hard workers they are, they don’t really have time to take care of you as much as they did with your older siblings. You were a mistake, or at least, that’s what your older brother liked to call you. Your older sister was always on your side, and you know you can count on her to always have your back.

It just sucks that you’re sent to a summer camp without them because they had more important things to do than to come with you. It’s not like your parents would say anything about it. The worst part is that the summer camp is in America--far away from your home. You live in Sokovia, which doesn’t really make much sense since the two countries are well over thousands of miles apart.

You’re all alone, and you have no one else to turn to. This camp houses a bunch of kids your age, so in theory, you should have no problem making friends. However, none of them are your friends. You don’t have much back home, and the ones you do are older than you. Your siblings want you to make friends your own age, and if you can do that here, then you know you can have friends from all over the world to visit.

It just sucks you’re the only different one here. Everyone else is from America, so they are easily able to adapt to their surroundings. All you know is poor houses and hard-working parents. This is far nicer than everything you’ve ever been to, so why aren’t your brother and sister here with you? They suffered the most, so they should know what life is like outside your small country.

Kids from all over the States gather with their friends, gossip, and laugh together. The camp counselors have already checked you in, so they aren’t going to waste any more time trying to figure out where you belong since there are so many kids still left to be checked in. They won’t miss you when you’re gone, so you head off toward the back where there are fewer kids around.

There are some on the jungle gym and swings, but you bypass them to where a gazebo sits big and tall. There is no one around the area, so you think this is the perfect area to lay back and watch as the world passes you by. All you need to do is get through this summer so you never have to go back again. You’ll just tell your siblings that you had a terrible time and you cried every night because there were all these bullies. All you have to do is turn on the charm, and they are putty in your hands.

Without all the kids screaming and having fun, this place can be really beautiful. There is nothing a kid can do over here, so you determine that this is the spot you’ll be every day until you get to go home. Upon walking closer to the gazebo, you noticed a very small child reading to himself with a chessboard displayed out in front of him.

He’s so engrossed in the book about biochemistry that he doesn’t notice you right away. He wears glasses that are twice the size of his head, and the clothes he’s wearing are professional in away. He’s definitely not like the other kids, and you feel attracted to him. You’re only thirteen, but you know this guy is someone worth getting to know.

“Hello,” you state as you get closer to him.

He jumps in surprise that someone--a girl--is talking to him.

“Hello,” he says and goes back to reading his book.

“My name is Y/N Maximoff. What’s your name?”

“Spencer Reid.”

“Mind if I join you?”

“Wouldn’t you rather be hanging out with your friends?” he asks, sliding his glasses further up his nose.

“I don’t have friends. I’m a long way from home right now,” you sigh.

He doesn’t give you verbal permission to sit with him, but he does scoot over on the very big sofas. You smile kindly and take a seat before noticing the other books around him.

“Where are you from? You have an accent.”

“I do. I’m from Sokovia in Eastern Europe. Everywhere I go, I’m just the weird kid with accent.”

“Wow, you really are a long way from home. That’s precisely five thousand, three hundred and nine miles which is equivalent to eight thousand, five hundred and forty-five kilometers away.”

“How did you know that?” you chuckle.

“I have an IQ of 187 and can read 20,000 words per minute. I am studying to take the finals I need to take in order to get my undergraduate degree.”

“Wow, you’re really smart. You like to play chess?” you ask, pointing to the board.

“I do. Do you?”

“I’ve never played before. Can you teach me?”

“Sure,” he smiles, closing his textbook to take a break from studying.

He doesn’t know why, but he feels attracted to you in a way he’s never felt for anyone else. Everyone he goes to school with is so much older than he is, so he doesn’t have time to focus on building relationships. Now that his mom forced him to go to something like this, he is able to make friends with kids his own age. They may not be on the same level of intellect as he is, but at least they are the same age.

There’s something about Spencer that keeps you wanting to go back for more. Maybe it’s because he doesn’t have time for petty drama or care for people who don’t care for him. Back home, all you ever see is people fighting for materialistic things because most people in your village are very poor. Spencer lets you have anything you want--not that you ask for much anyway.

Your original plan was to tell your siblings that you never wanted to go back, but that all changed when you met Spencer. You went back the next summer and the summer after that and the summer after that. Spencer became the person your sister and brother hoped you’d find. He only ever wanted to be with you and no one else, and you felt the same way. You don’t know what love is at your age, but you know what like is--what you feel for Spencer is definitely a lot more than like.

Then one summer, you just stopped coming. Your parents died at the hands of a Stark, and your siblings and you volunteered to be experimented on by Struker and his HYDRA army. They used the Infinity Stone inside Loki’s scepter to give you and your siblings your powers. You didn't know it at the time, but Strucker is the bad guy and Tony ended up being the good guy.

Though, going through all that pain and experimenting, there was one person that never left your mind: Spencer. You like to think what he accomplished after that last summer. Where is he? What is he doing now? Does he have a family of his own? Is he happy? Those are just some of the questions you ask yourself before you go to sleep every night in hopes you might get to find out someday.

The experiments that you and your siblings went through brought you back to the United States, but only after years. Your brother is gone now--killed in action. It’s just you and Wanda, and you have to stick together if you want to come out of this thing alive. There is no one else you can count on except for her--wherever she goes, you go.

After the battle of Sokovia, Tony took you, Wanda, Vision, and Sam in to train to become Avengers. Well, Steve and Natasha did. Tony took off to be with his girlfriend Pepper, but you knew you were in good hands with the assassin and the super-soldier. You two fought like hell to prove to them you were worthy of being part of their team, and it’s finally time that they let you in. They see you as one of their own, and that’s all you ever wanted.

Your powers are very similar, if not exactly like Wanda’s. She’s a completely different person than you are, but the Infinity Stone saw it as one and the same. That’s why your powers are just like hers compared to your brother’s. Having two of the same kind of witch is beneficial to the team since it’s such a good asset to control minds and have powers that move and destroy things.

You’re going to need two sets of the same powers for this one because the world is in danger yet again. There is some kind of attack on the President, so that’s where you and your team are fighting the evil ones. These bad people think if they can wipe out all the important rulers, then their team can strike every country and infiltrate their government to make the entire world bow down at their feet.

They have large guns and big weapons, but you have your powers which are more than enough.

“Take the west and I’ll cover the east. We’ll meet back with Steve and Natasha,” Wanda orders.

“You got it,” you state.

Your blue magic shoots out of your hand, causing you to shoot into the sky. While she is red, you are blue--opposite ends of the spectrum but equally as likable. You land in the middle of an intersection, but there are no cars coming. Everyone is out of them, running and screaming like chickens with their heads cut off.

More and more bad people in uniforms file through, shooting at anything that moves. Your magic encompasses one of them, and you slam him into the other, creating a domino effect.

“Go! Get out of here!” you yell and rush to evacuate the remaining civilians.

Cut off one head, two more grow back. Twice as many soldiers come rushing in, and you have to fend them off so they don’t hurt anyone else. Whatever you can find to do maximum damage, you use your magic to use the objects as weapons. Tables, shards of glass, cars, mailboxes, and everything else to slam into each and every one of the men.

You think you got them all, but then you notice a civilian by one of the skyscrapers, scared out of his mind. The terrorist has both the ground and the sky covered, and they aren’t afraid of doing maximum damage to anyone on the ground. You don’t know how they managed it, but the skyscraper by the stranger is collapsing. Without even thinking, you shoot your hands out in front of you, and your magic holds up the falling debris. It’s a lot of power for one person to hold, but you can’t let him die because of a mistake you made.

“Go! Get out of here!” you strain to yell.

The force of the building is enough to make you fall to your knees, but when you look back at the man, your heart and world stop.

“Spencer?” you gasp.

“Y/N?” he exclaims.

The building is getting heavier, and you know you won’t be able to hold it up for much longer.

“Go! Run!” you yell. He doesn’t waste any more time and just escapes. Just like that, he’s gone again. “Wanda!! Tony! I need some help over here! Unless you want me to crumble under this fucking building!”

“Language!” Steve says over the comm, and you just roll your eyes.

Your older sister and mentor come rushing in to help with you, and once you are safe to step back without the fear of dying, you look around for Spencer. He’s gone, again, and you have no way of finding him this time. You can’t dwell on this for long because there are still bad guys that need to be killed and people that need saving.

If it’s meant to be, then it’s meant to be.

Tony was able to find Spencer so easily that a baby could have done it. He stayed after the fight which should have told you he was willing to give you another chance, but he could be waiting to tell you to fuck off or something along the lines. You didn't do anything wrong, but you can’t help but feel like you did.

“Are you sure you want to do this?” Wanda asks outside of the cafe Spencer requested to meet with you in.

“Yeah, he was my only friend at summer camp. We clicked and connected, and I just left him without even a goodbye.”

“Our parents died,” she sighs.

“Yeah, and I had every opportunity to tell him what was going on, but I didn’t. He deserves to know why. I won’t be long,” you say.

With one pat on the shoulder, you quickly head inside the cafe. Spencer is sitting by the window on the far corner, and he looks up when he hears you coming over.

“Hi, Spencer. Long time no see,” you chuckle dryly.

“What happened to the accent? It’s gone away.”

“I guess that’s what I get for spending so much time in America,” you chuckle and take a seat across from him. “Thank you for meeting with me.”

“I had to see you. I had to know that what I saw wasn’t in my head,” he sighs.

“I bet you have a ton of questions, but the one thing you need to know is that I didn’t leave you on purpose. I wanted to come back to you. You were always more than a friend to me, and I know you know that.”

“Then why didn’t you? I tried calling and messaging you, but you never responded back.”

“My parents died, and it was just me and my two siblings. I couldn’t leave them knowing what happened. They volunteered themselves and me for experiments with HYDRA and an Infinity Stone. It’s why I have these powers. I couldn’t go back to you the first time because I had obligations, and I couldn’t return without the fear of something bad happening to you. I was too afraid of messaging you because I know what you would have said, and I couldn’t bear to let you down or to betray your trust.”

“You didn’t let me down or betray me,” he says and grabs your hands from across the table. “I was just worried that my best friend had died.”

“In a way I did, I guess.”

“I can’t imagine what you’ve been through.”

“It wasn’t all bad. I’ve made a new family, but I realize that it’s incomplete without you in it. I don’t know what you’ve been up to or if you’ve made a family on your own, but I’m staying in town for a while and I hope you’ll let me take you out?”

“Yeah, I’d like that,” he smiles widely.

“You’ve gotten very handsome since the last time I saw you,” you compliment, your cheeks heating up just a bit.

“And you’ve gotten even more beautiful.”

If he lets you, then you’ll be adding him to your new found family. If he lets you, then you’re never going to let him go. If he lets you, then you’ll love him for everything he’s worth.

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[lannisterdaddyissues]

answer all 20 fma questions go. i am holding you at gunpoint 🔫✨

ANON YOU HAVE SAVED MY LIFE IM OBSESSED WITH U NOW JFDJSGJFSKGJ but please dont hold me at gunpoint who do u think u are riza hawkeye--

1.) What type of Alchemy would you use?

i'm currently on the pre-med track so medical alchemy would be cool!! but if i'd have to fight then i will cheat and say i can do lightning alchemy bc guess what its my fantasies and I GET TO CHOOSE THE ALCHEMY HEADCANONS but it would probably be related to water alchemy somehow since lightning comes from charged particles in the clouds. maybe i could primarily be a water alchemist and lightning is a subset of that!

2.) What would your state alchemist codename be?

hmmm im gonna cheat and decide yes i can do lightning shit bc i said so so i guess my codename would be something lame and on the nose like the lightning alchemist or the spark alchemist :/ im lame and useless like roy but on the opposite end of the spectrum because i can only use my alchemy when its wet or raining boohoo...

3.) Would you serve in the military?

yell heah their uniforms are sick! i would like to be an army doctor tho :/ idk about fighting other people and electrocuting them to ash. i would DEFINITELY be on edward elric's call list when the promised day comes around tho, i refuse to miss a chance to go toe to toe with a homunculus

4.) Alchemist/Engineer/Soldier? alchemist! maybe soldier. not sure.

5.) Would you commit the taboo? mmmmm yeah probably if i had sufficient motivation, ignoring the fact that it doesn't work because i would probably ignore that

6.) Favorite character? answered! it's roy :)

7.) brOTP? HYUROI!!!! their friendship is so so so so personal to me. i love it platonically and romantically, i love it in pre-canon and canon, i love it in an au, i love it no matter what. there has never been an anime friendship more personal and close to the heart than hyuroi

8.) OTP? ROYAI!!!!! it's been 7 years and i'm still utterly obsessed with them. how arakawa-sensei managed to make a tangible love story with two characters who barely ever touch and arent even allowed to look each other in the eye without getting arrested on suspicion of secretly fucking is beyond me. she is a genius

9.) Which theme song do you find yourself singing the most/the catchiest? either rain by sid (fmab op 5) or undo by cool joke (fma op 3)!

10.) FMA or FMAB? fmab by a long shot! fma is good as a standalone because you don't know what you're missing out on lmao

11.) nOTP? mmm i wouldn't exactly call this a notp but i don't really ship edling all that much even though it's popular. i don't actively dislike it tho. i do hate edvy though bc that's gross and whenever i see it i gag.

12.) Character you’re most like/relate to? winry! she and i both have our Special Hyperfixation™ (automail for her and medicine for me), and i felt a real kinship with her, esp in 03 because at some points she felt like an afterthought which i am used to feeling that way too. but she's always so optimistic and a little hot-headed with her friends which is definitely me!

14.) Who (which character) do you look the most like?

hehehe i also look a lot like winry if you mix her with catherine elle armstrong! just give me shorter hair and that's me!

15.) Black Hayate or Den? ...................black hayate :(

16.) Favorite deadly sin? answered! it's wrath/king bradley :)

17.) Who would you want as your parents? hohenheim and trisha bc they remind me of my parents in some ways! my dad is awkward like hohenheim but he could also totally kill god without breaking a sweat and my mom is totally a momma bear and she would fight anyone who messes with us

18.) Who would you want as your child(ren)? mmmmmmm the main three i guess? ed al and winry? i would also totally adopt baby pride/selim because look at that face... hes so precious

19.) Part that made you cry the most? i never cry at fiction but hughes' death is a given, and also rain (fmab op 5) definitely gives me the feels whenever i watch/listen to it

20.) Least favorite character? answered! it's a tie between shou tucker and envy :)

21.) Your favorite FMA AU? i love the various time travel fix-it fics on ao3 where ed goes back in time and fixes everything, but my hands-down all-time favorite fma au ever has to be the meaning of hyacinths by @starryeyed-char! (shoutout!) it's an au where hughes lives and roy "dies" instead of him and the writing is so EXQUISITE i cannot express to you in enough words how amazing and incredible this series is. it is absolutely a must-read. caveat that it's still being written and currently has eight parts, but the author plans to take it all the way to the promised day so just be patient for the next installments!!

[parrhesiablog]

The Case for Trivial Anarchism

An analysis of proceduralist, legal obligation and political authority arguments against anarchism

The Consummation of Empire from The Course of the Empire by Thomas Cole (source)

Read here on my substack: https://parrhesia.substack.com/p/the-case-for-trivial-anarchism

I. Trivial Anarchism Defined

Think of the nature of a utopian society in which everyone lives up to their moral obligations according to whatever your moral theory is. Hardly anyone would envision an ideal society in which people steal, murder, trespass, cheat on their spouse or any other clearly bad action. If you are the type of person who thinks everyone should go to church, then imagine everyone does this. If you are the type of person who thinks everyone should donate 10% of their income to effective charities, then imagine people in this society do.

In this utopia, the laws were exactly how you would like them to be. Your wildest policy dreams could be implemented whatever they may be. If you’re a liberal, you can have universal basic income, wealth redistribution, subsidized housing, legalized gay marriage, reparations and anti-discrimination policies. If you’re conservative, you can have border control, strict policing and drug prohibition.

If you think for a second about what the laws would be, you might notice there would be a problem of sorts. If everyone fulfilled their moral duties, government would not be necessary. If nobody committed murder, theft, assault and so forth, you would not need laws to prevent people form doing this. You would not need police for enforcement or prisons for confining criminals. If nobody created drugs that were unsafe or prepared food in an unsanitary way, then you do not need regulatory bodies to check on them. If people donated a large portion of their income to charities, you would not need to tax them.

Government is an institution that punishes people who do not conform to the law but if everyone behaved as the law wanted, then you would not need the government. I think this position could be called something like being a Trivial Anarchist. In a utopian society with perfect actors that follow all their moral obligations, you would be an advocate for anarchism but in some sense this is a trivial point because we do not live in that world. This does not mean you want to reduce the size of government under present conditions.

Within the philosophy of anarchism, there are the extreme anarchists who would end the state immediately and there are those who are more hesitant. In an essay entitled “Do You Hate The State?”, Murray Rothbard critiques some Anarcho-Capitalists for being too gradual in their approach compared to his more radical “abolitionist” approach:

The abolitionist is a "button pusher" who would blister his thumb pushing a button that would abolish the State immediately, if such a button existed.

Relative to the trivial anarchist, the Button Pusher Anarchist would be toward the opposite end of the anarchist spectrum with the always-and-everywhere button pusher being the furthest extreme. So, wouldn’t everyone be on this spectrum as at least a trivial anarchist? I think no and the reasons that they would not be tell us a lot about political reasoning and ethics. I will argue that there is not a good reason to not be a trivial anarchist.

II. Instrumentalism and Proceduralism

In discussions of democracy, different justifications for the institution are provided. Someone may say that democracy is a good institution because it creates peace and thriving economic conditions. This is an instrumentalist argument. It takes the stance that democracy is good because it gives us good things. If other institutions were better, the institutionalist would probably want to switch systems.

There are other arguments which are about the process itself. For example, one could argue democracy is good because it allows a nation’s people to shape their own institutions and allows everyone’s voice to be heard. These types of arguments are proceduralist.

Proceduralism is the thesis that some way (or ways) of distributing power or making decisions is intrinsically good, just, or legitimate.

Pure proceduralism, the most radical version, holds that there are no independent moral standards for evaluating the outcome of the decision-making institutions.1

Pure proceduralism is not popular because it has absurd and revolting conclusions. For example, a democracy that elects a leader that commits atrocities would be the most good, just or legitimate option because the election process was good. Most people are a blend of proceduralism and instrumentalism. They believe in the institution of democracy to some extent and value the process but they also care a lot about the outcomes that it produces.

I would consider myself a pure instrumentalist. The only thing that matters is the outcomes that are produced. I want my policies to win. If letting children vote achieved my policy goals, I would support it. If raising the voting age to 45 and above achieved my policy goals, I would support it. Do I support the electoral college, DC statehood, gerrymandering, campaign finance laws or voter ID laws? It depends on what policies it would produce.

You could object that I should have at least some proceduralist considerations but the consequences of elections are important and the value of voting is either really small or non-existent. Does a gang of robbers out-voting a lost traveller about whether to steal from the traveller make the action anymore ethically acceptable? I would probably say no or maybe but ever so slightly if so. Presidents command influence over trillions of dollars, the wellbeing of hundreds of millions and the lives of many foreigners and soldiers in US war zones.

Imagine two Central European presidential candidates: Novak and Vesely. They will be the exact same in all ways except Vesely will invade Ruritania and kill 100,000 people for no good reason. You can tell the future. You’re in charge of counting the votes and notice that Vesely won by 99,999 but you can switch the number so that Novak wins by 1 vote, essentially switching the vote of 100,000 people. Would this be ethical? I think I would switch the votes. I value a life over a legitimately counted vote. How many deaths would it take for you to change the votes? Please don’t tell me people can’t tell the future or that more than one person counts the votes.

I believe that someone could reject trivial anarchism if they had proceduralist beliefs. That would mean that an ideal situation in which everyone was acting totally morally was not good enough. You would also have to have votes on issues. If you imagined a society in which everyone had the right to vote for what they believed, then they would likely vote for things that are ideologically appealing (I am skeptical of the self-interested voter theory2). The result would be that it would be necessary for government to enforce laws which people would not voluntarily follow even if they were acting morally. It is imaginable that the will of the people is not congruent with perfect moral action.

III. Discrepancy Between Moral Obligation and Legal Obligation

There is another reason someone may reject trivial anarchism regardless of proceduralist concerns. Someone could believe that you do not have positive moral obligation to do things like donate to the poor but that the government should enforce laws that take money from people. This would mean perfect law is more demanding than your moral obligations.

While I do not think that people would admit they feel this way, I think this stance is common. There is a common refrain among conservatives towards liberals:

If you really want to raise taxes so much, then why don’t you donate to the government?

This could be said with varying levels of snark and in some contexts it may be inappropriate because the person may not be the target of the desired tax increase. But I do think that this is getting at something important. This point jumps to my mind when I see an article like “These Billionaires Want The Ultra-Wealthy To Pay More In Taxes” with a quote like this:

At least a dozen billionaires have made public statements that call for the super-rich to pay more in taxes.  On Monday, Salesforce chairman and cofounder Marc Benioff penned the latest in a string of billionaire op-eds calling for higher taxes on the wealthy. The California software entrepreneur, who ranked No. 93 on The Forbes 400 list of richest Americans released earlier this month, wrote that “increasing taxes on high-income individuals like myself would help generate the trillions of dollars that we desperately need to improve education and health care and fight climate change.”

For some reason, I doubt that he donates his money to the government. In fact, hardly anybody does. From what I found, in 2020, $1.6 million was donated as a gift to “reduce debt held by the public”. That may sound like a lot but the government spent $6.55 trillion in 2020. I can reasonably say that he does not donate the equivalent of what he believes he should pay in taxes because if he did the number would be greater than $1.6 million.3 Are these billionaires acting in a consistent manner or is this hypocrisy?4

It seems odd to me to think that someone would want the government to punish them for doing what they are doing currently (not paying “enough” in taxes or charitable contributions). You would think that if this billionaire felt that improving education, health care and fighting climate change were so important you could use coercion to solve it then you should be morally obligated to do it without coercion.

I want to provide an example to demonstrate the weirdness of this. There is a famous thought experiment popularized by philosopher Peter Singer in his essay “Famine, Affluence, and Morality” in which he asks the reader to imagine a drowning child. Here is a description5:

Your route to work takes you past a shallow pond. One morning you notice that a small child has fallen in and appears to be in difficulty in the water. The child is crying in distress and it seems is at risk of drowning. You are tall and strong, so you can easily wade in and pull the child out. However, although you'll come to no physical harm if you rescue the child, you will get your clothes wet and muddy, which means you'll have to go home to change, and likely you'll be late for work.

In this situation, do you have a moral obligation to rescue the child?

It is as if you would say that you do not have to save the drowning child but the drowning child should be saved. In fact, the drowning child should be saved so much so that use of coercion is necessary. It would be like you saying if you had a gun, you would hand it to someone else and say “coerce me and others like me to save the child.” That person would take the gun and then point it at you and then you would save the child happily. Something seems off about this position.

IV. Political Authority

Some believe there is actually a duty to obey the government and that the state has a right to rule. This position is a belief in political authority. If the state is legitimate, then you should not abolish the state and the ideal society would be one in which people obey the government. Rejecting trivial anarchism because of political authority could make sense depending on what one’s justification is for political authority. The Democratic justification was discussed in the proceduralism section.

The consequentialist justification for political authority is the Hobbesian position against anarchy. It is the belief that without a government, things would be really bad. In his words “the life of man, solitary, poor, nasty, brutish, and short.”6 If everyone behaves well, as stipulated in the thought experiment, then life would not be like this. Therefore, there would be no legitimate political authority.

If one was an advocate for the Divine Right of Kings, then one could see that a king had a right to rule regardless of the behavior of his subjects. Hardly anyone advocates this position so I will not devote time to rejecting the divinity of kings, a time consuming task.

The social contract argument is very popular. It usually takes the form that we tacitly consent to being ruled by the government In a world with ideal behavior, what would the government do? If there is no proceduralist considerations and no difference between legal and moral obligation, then this state would only interfere with society in unnecessary and harmful ways. It would be weird to have a government which is not necessary or desirable in the consequentialist sense but it exists because everyone consented to it by remaining where they are. This makes me think that social contract theorists would admit that it is actually for consequentialist reasons when pressed. I have never heard of someone who was a social contract theorist but thought government was not necessary.

If someone says that you continue to remain in the territory despite claiming you are oppressed by the government therefore the government is legitimate, they would have to assume that a government has a right to lay claim over the area in the first place. If I was a mafia boss and claimed a neighborhood in New York and then went and collected taxes, it would not be a good justification to say that the residents of the neighborhood should just leave. I would have to justify me laying claim to the neighborhood first.

Perhaps you would say that the citizen accepts services provided by the government. Maybe it’s like eating in a restaurant and not paying. If you are receiving services for which you have to pay regardless of whether or not you consent, in other words “an offer you cannot refuse”, then it is not analogous to services provided by a private business. If the mafia provided protection from other gangs, would that mean the mafia was legitimate in its collections?

One could argue that natural rights are real and ought to be protected by the government. But the government would only violate natural rights and not do more to protect them because nobody would be violating anyone’s rights in the ideal society. Government is the existence of an entity which takes away some rights to protect some others. Without other forms of justification for political legitimacy, under a natural rights viewpoint, taxation is equivalent to theft. To think that we should advocate taking some rights to prevent the taking of others is weighing and evaluating tradeoffs. It is in some sense meta-consequentialist. A non-meta consequentialist would believe that rights can never be violated, no matter what, and be an anarchist a la Rothbard.

V. Conclusion

What all does this matter? The point is that if you believe in this trivial form of anarchism then you believe that we should abolish the state in a world in which everyone acts according to their moral obligations. Although I am likely unsuccessful, I hope to have convinced you that proceduralism is not a legitimate justification, that legal obligations are equivalent to moral obligations and that non-consequentialist political authority arguments are without merit.

The conclusion would be that the only legitimate justification for government is consequentialist in nature if it exists. It is the belief that things would go poorly under any form of anarchy and that is why we need a state. This is a major change in political thinking. It means if a stateless society would function better than one with a government, there would not be a reason to have a government. I do not actually believe in political authority because I believe that there is no good justification for government, including the consequentialist one.

The task of convincing someone that consequentialist concerns about anarchy are not as warranted as concerns about the existence of government is too much for an essay of this size. It involves an extended discussion of possible objections, hypothetical scenarios and usually a lot of economic reasoning. For this type of argument, see David Friedman’s The Machinery of Freedom or Edward Stringham’s Anarchy and the Law.

1 Brennan, Jason. Against Democracy. 10 - 14. United Kingdom: Princeton University Press, 2017

2 See: The Myth of the Rational Voter by Bryan Caplan

3 Please let me know if you find this number to be incorrect. I didn’t find any other examples of donations to the US federal government.

4 Perhaps they donate the equivalent to a charity that they feel accomplishes the desired tasks more efficiently than the government. If this were the case, it is feasible to imagine a consistent argument in which they feel they are fulfilling their obligation in a more efficient manner but in an ideal world taxes would be higher and they would pay those instead.

5 https://www.philosophyexperiments.com/singer/

6 Hobbes, Thomas "Chapter XIII.: Of the Natural Condition of Mankind As Concerning Their Felicity, and Misery.". Leviathan.

[tsukihoshino]

Super long Sasori post

I’m going to begin this by saying everyone is entitled to their view on Sasori and how to characterize him within the parameters set up by canon or whatever AU/Bent Timeline a person has inserted him into but I do believe there are certain things about him that remain the same no matter what situation you put him in-- otherwise he’s just no longer Sasori (IMO.) So much of his character is about hyper analyzing his words and actions, and what others have said about him through a microscope because the fact of the matter is for such an interesting character he really had such little time.

I was originally not going to bring shipping into this but as I was writing Sasosaku kinda slipped in there, mostly because it felt like it provided a good contrast to what we get of Sasori in canon and how it can translate into fanon.

(All of these opinions are based on the Manga and the Akatsuki formation because OP cannot be assed with novels and filler for the most part...Making an exception for Komushi.)

1. He’s highly manipulative. He’s a puppet master and he has a spy ring. He gathers information so he can use it against people, he manipulates the corpses of what used to be people--or things that LOOK, very often like people. That says a lot about who he is as a person.

And when you first see his real face, when he reveals himself to Chiyo this is the face you get; 

I don’t get the impression that he’s actually happy to see her given the events that follow, its largely about trying to put his grandmother off center and BOTHER her. Sasori is perfectly capable of acting to get to a desired result--which makes a lot of sense to me because while Bunraku is largely about the Narrator's words there is also the performance element to it via the puppets.

2. He’s all about control. Control of himself, of others, of events. It's really an offshoot of manipulation but I don’t think Sasori blinks without putting thought into the action. ( I mean technically, lmao given his unique anatomy in canon that might be 100% accurate.)

3. He’s not only an artist. The guy is the very definition of being a mad scientist. He sits at a place where Art and Science meet and become something more. It's not one or the other when it comes to Sasori, there is something almost Frankenstein like in the way that he creates his human puppets, the 3rd and himself. Think about the knowledge that had to go into that from basic human anatomy to the chakra system as a whole. I mean we never get a play by play on HOW he did it but we know he’s the only one who ever did and then repeated a similar, much more complicated process on himself.

Then there is his poison, we know he’s primarily relied on the infamous one because it was sooo effective (until it wasn’t, thanks Sakura.) But we have to assume given how he is Sasori makes ART out of deadly concoctions and methods of murder.

To him synthesizing that poison was probably no different than an artist trying to get that perfect shade of red.

The weird thing about Sasori ( and I guess it's just ONE of the many weird things) Is that for an Artist he is very...clinical. When we think about people in the arts we often imagine passionate people like Deidara--bombastic and flamboyant free spirits. 

4. Logical and likely to the extreme.

He’s not a sore loser. When he loses and it's fair he accepts it. He's not bitter about the end of his fight with Sakura and Chiyo, he’s not pissy with Konan--he respects it because to Sasori the weak die and the strong survive, losers don’t have a right to complain when they shoulda got gud to begin with.

I don’t doubt that in Sasori’s logical mind he came to the conclusion that his parents died because they were weak. Ergo unlike Chiyo he’s just completely unaffected by seeing Kakashi, the world just followed its natural order in the death of his parents.

He’s got a reptile brain and he just sort of views people as animals because it's probably simpler--except for himself. He thinks he’s above that, to himself he is a god.

The thing with Komushi...I perceive it as largely an accident but in Sasori’s “perfectly” logical mind he was just like well: it’s sort of Komushi’s own fault and never let a tragedy go to waste because again, hyper logical. Not only that but he was BEGGED to do something for Komushi and there really was nothing to be done for him at that point other than make something useful out of his death.

The problem with being TOO logical is that it is just as detrimental as being too emotional. If we all just went around doing what was logical we’d be no different than animals or machines. Logic dictates we do whatever it takes to survive and come out on top even at the expense of others but because we are balanced by emotion most people don’t live like that.

On the flipside because he’s logical he can be convinced by compelling arguments without ego getting in the way. In this same vein he finds it very difficult to feel sorry about things he’s done in the past but when able to recognize it was wrong he can accept it and simply resolve not to do it in the future--he doesn’t have the capacity to agonize over feelings of guilt.

5. He hates being lied to and he’s impatient. Sasori will lie to everyone around him and even to himself if he can manage it but if he finds out He’s the one being lied to? Intense hate. See points 1&2.

6. He’s blunt and often rude when acting as his natural self. I don’t find the need to explain this one much.

7. Sasori is largely self-focused. He thinks he has a perfect handle on himself and understands exactly why he is the way he is--but it couldn’t be further from the truth. He really doesn’t understand his own feelings much less those of others and what he does understand he often doesn’t care about. This can be changed if a person is able to get through to him.

This is the guy who thought that by removing his concious from a human body and sticking it into what's basically a decorative vase all his problems would MAGICALLY vanish. Because as smart as he is, he was also desperate to escape his own feelings not realizing that when you pour the water in one glass into another glass the contents remain the same.

No matter how hard he tries he cannot escape the problem plaguing him; himself.

8. Sasori does not value life, not his own and certainly not others. Unless you are like that ONE person who is able to get through to him. He has what I would call a “Very narrow heart.”  which simply does not have a lot of space for people. To him it's probably Sasori and “That Person” VS the world.

9. He likes things that last, sculptures and paintings, classical music and literature, things that have been around for ages and withstood the trials of time.

10. He does not do well on his own. He thinks he does but he really doesn’t, when he is by himself he is destructive. When he feels alone he is at his most dangerous. Sasori is very much a person who NEEDS someone to essentially be his emotional center otherwise we get him turning himself into a puppet in what amounted to a one longass theatrical suicide.

11. Sasori was probably always a little...different even as a kid but environment and events certainly played a role. His parents died at an early age and he was essentially lied to and given false hope. (hence the impatience and hatred of lies.) Throw into that an intellect seldom seen in a time of war where child soldiers are the norm. He killed his first person at 8, he earned himself a title denoting that he was so good at killing he soaked the sands in blood. Imagine what that's like at 8, getting a pat on the head everytime you kill someone?

Of course you would become conditioned to believe that killing is right and good when you’re being congratulated and rewarded for being proficient at it.

Its assumption on my part but I do believe Sasori lays somewhere on the Antisocial Personality Disorder spectrum.

12. He’s vain AF. Look at him. He made sure to replicate himself in his prime to perfect detail in the places that were most visible, his face and his hands. He could have made himself look like anything but in the end he still chose that form.

13. When he wants something he makes a plan and gets it done. Doesn’t matter how long or what he has to do to get to point A to point B he’s going to do it.

14. He has three main expressions; blank, smug and insane.

15: His power levels are again, insane. He is a master of multiple trades. The guy ganked a Kage at 15 the strongest one Sand ever had by that point, ( Orochimaru was waay older and came out way more damaged as far as we know when he fought Sarutobi.) toppled a nation, made himself a new body with mysterious methods.

It's time for the Sasosaku bit:

Part of the reason why I think the two of them fit so well together is that they are opposites and yet complimentary. Sakura is an antidote and Sasori is the poison, but sometimes a medicine can become a poison and a poison can be used as medicine. Sakura is a close range combatant and Sasori is long but they have this odd intersection of skill sets and interest. They both deal in the human body and the manipulation of it, Sakura’s focus is to maintain it as it is and improve its condition if needed and Sasori’s is to both destroy and create it anew all at once.

If they weren’t trying to kill one another in canon they would have had tons to talk about.

Ultimately Sakura gets gut stabbed not because he was aiming for her but because she got LITERALLY in the way of a family feud. He was going for Chiyo and you can assume that's because he thought his grandma was the bigger threat or because he was still bitter about the past on some subconscious level and was gunning for her--i mean he goes in for Chiyo a second time after he disconnects from the arm Sakura was death gripping. But Sakura’s selfless action is something that viscerally shocks him: 

And it only gets worse when Chiyo starts feeding her life force into Sakura--a second selfless act on the part of someone he hates and feels wronged by.

Sakura values life and Sasori doesn’t because he doesn’t understand it. He was raised his whole life to think that people like them--Shinobi had no value other than to kill or to be killed. He’s visibly shocked when she starts yelling after socking him in the face about Human lives and family bonds. Like no one had ever mentioned that to him before and forget about risking your life to save someone else's, that goes against his logical lizard brain.

At that point he’s already beaten, he’s already impressed with her. It’s right after her punching him that Sasori gives what amounts to an odd marriage proposal IMO. It was completely pointless of him to even bring it up but you can tell by the “Glint” in his eye that he meant it.

Sasori: Want to become like me? You’ll get what I mean. An undecaying body, Unfettered by a mortal lifespan, capable of being rebuilt over and over again. ( if you were immortal would you offer immortality to someone you had no interest in? Not me. I wouldn’t want to have them around for virtually “forever” in any shape or form. And Sasori is not talking about making Sakura into just some controllable puppet, he’s talking about being JUST like him, sentient thought and movement.)

Sasori: I can make as many people as I want out of puppets….-Looks dead at Sakura- If I want them...but my collection isn’t just about quantity. Quality is important too.

That whole conversation is like A CREEPY FLIRTATION from him because we know what he considers “True beauty” to be. Eternal.

And then it comes to a head where he gives her a “sentimental reward” in the information she wanted. Now I’m not saying Sakura was interested or anything but it seems like he was in some shape or form.

In my opinion when you put someone like Sakura--who is brilliant and logical but also heavily swayed by her emotions with someone like Sasori, brilliant, logical and emotionally repressed. A person who values life with someone who neither values their own life or others what you get is agitation.

Agitation is not a bad thing, it breaks stagnation--which is what, imo drives Sasori to his death. It is the lack of change, he’s made it so he cannot feel physically and he has tried his hardest and for the most part succeeded in numbing his inner feelings.

Part of me is convinced that what ultimately kills him is complacency. He gets so used to being at the top that when he is confronted with someone who neutralizes his life’s work and destroys his collection and keeps confronting and beating him with all the qualities he deems useless and pointless it just drives home the point that everything he has ever done or thought was in vain and on some level wrong. There is no point in winning against them because everything is already destroyed. There is no going back to what he was before, therefore death is preferable.

Through Sakura, in Au’s or alt timelines, or w/e she is able to reach him through their similarities but change him due to the fundamental differences in their nature. 

As to what Sakura gets from Sasori; Someone who clearly respects her skills and understands her interests because his own align--and therefore would be supportive and present. The two of them actually have things in common and therefore shit to talk about.

 In that same vein Sasori seems like the type of person who if he were to fall in love it is to the point of obsession, for someone who was repressed and held themselves apart from others I see him in a lot of ways as almost touch, and certainly affection starved. It becomes addictive to him. (Which is probably why when I write him he’s handsy.) 

We know how Sakura likes to take care of people--we see it with Naruto, Sasuke and Sai. In some of these cases it is often to the detriment of her own well being and Sasori, the selfish person that he is, can reign that in and pull it back so that it isn’t so all consuming. (mostly because the only person she should be worried about is herself and him.)

In the end, If Sasori is the logic and Sakura is the emotion, what you end up with is something more balanced. In the same way that if you were to mix a Poison with an Antidote you would end up with a neutralization.

These are just my personal opinions and thoughts on the matter.

¯\_(ツ)_/¯

Also I headcanon that Sasori is basically Sakura-sexual so -cough- there. I guess that's a topic for another time...

Look at all these conceited Sasori faces: 

[insomniacowl]

Thinking of anime - Descending Stories: Showa Genroku Rakugo Shinjuu by Haruko Kumota Part 2

The first disciple of Yakumo, Yotaro. Often in Rakugo, the foolish characters are named Yotaro

In part 1, I gave you a general introduction of the series Showa Genroku Rakugo Shinjuu (SGRS). From here on, I shan’t explain in-depth the story and the characters as my intent here are not in recommending this anime. People who watch it will watch it and those who will fall in love with this story will share what they love. And it is this love that binds the community as a whole.

 I want to start off by having some working definitions of technical words that will be used.

 Let’s start off with culture. We use this word often in our daily lives and it is strongly ingrained in our vocabulary; it is something we know the meaning of, but not many can give the definition to. This tends to happen as culture is used as an umbrella term to encompass social behavior, norms, knowledge, beliefs, objects, and so on of a group of individuals. It is something that is fluid and changes over time.

 Cultural practices are performed largely to arrange the social relations and relations of production in a certain way. This method of arrangement can be of necessity or arbitrary and can be fluid but also cemented with something more solid then culture. When cultural practices are cemented it becomes comparatively unaffected and can resist changes brought on by the fluidity of culture around; becoming traditional practices. Often those practices lose meaning that was attached to it during this transition and it becomes a free ground for meaning to be created by its practitioners, and audiences.

 Performativity is a term that many will be familiar with through Judith Butler’s use of the term gender performativity. But I’ll use it here in the context of traditional practices; cultural performativity; that it is through the repeated performance that such practices, even after losing its function of social organization can it survive; it is the continued practice that results in the tradition being kept alive, rather the tradition dictating the actions that are performed.

 Framing tradition as something that is kept alive by repeated performance rather than a monolithic set of rules, allows us to find ways to alter it as the culture around it changes; co-existing with progress. There is a view in our world today that dims tradition as harmful to progress. There is also an opposite spectrum of this view that tries to use traditional value as a device to create us vs them divide and a different way of seeing tradition may help us preserve the meaning people attach to it, while it serves to better, not jeopardize our society.

The two brother disciples, platonic but also loving relationship

 Let’s recap what is my belief that the author wants to convey to us which are: What does it mean to hold affection? And how does affection of the past influence our interaction with the world that changes?

The whole of season 1, except for the very first episode, depicts the life of Yakumo (or Bong at this point) in his earlier days. It starts with an introduction of him when he was seven years old and sent off to study Rakugo under the then seventh-generation Yakumo. On his first day as a disciple, he meets Sukeroku, who becomes his brother by discipleship. During their interaction, we learn of how Bong felt abandoned by his parents who sent him off to Yakumo as they did not want him as their son.

Bong in his first romantic relationship

We then skip forward a few years to his teenage years, Bong, due to the fear of being abandoned again, desperately holds onto Rakugo, hoping that if he were to get good enough, it would become a place where he could belong. This becomes an obsession and he becomes blind to other places to belong; where he can find solace. Namely, this is shown as a girl that he meets and falls in love with, yet due to Bong’s obsession with his practice, they drift apart.

 After graduating from mandatory education, Bong receives the name of Kiku and along with Sukeroku, begins to perform properly on stage as a full-time Rakugoka. During this period, Kiku puts in great effort into his practice yet always lacks behind Sukeroku. Yet Sukuroku’s free nature prevents him from adhering to the restrictive rules of tradition and this makes him disliked by the elder members of the practice.

The last chance for a simpler life

Japan soon becomes embroiled in various wars and this led to a period of restraint; a period where people avoid wasting resources so that it can be directed towards the war, this has a direct impact on entertainment industries, and Rakugo as well. As time passes and the war continues, Kikuhoko’s teacher and Sukeroku travel to Manchuria to perform for the soldiers on the front lines while Kiku is unable to follow them due to the problem of his leg.

 During this period, he moves to the countryside and works in a factory, this slow life allowing him to contemplate if he should just stay there and not return to the busy city to practice Rakugo. Here, he had a chance to find another way of life, free from his obsession with Rakugo, and try to find meaning in something else.

 The war eventually ends, and he returns to Tokyo. As society begins to recover from the damages of war, people begin to seek out entertainments and Kiku returns to practicing Rakugo to earn a living. Eventually, his teacher and Sukeroku make it back to Japan and everyone is happy and reunited.

Miyokichi flirts with Kikuhiko, but Kiku is not sure

Here we are introduced to Miyokichi and she quickly takes a liking of Kiku, falling in love with him. This time Kiku does reciprocates, even if his priority is always with practicing Rakugo, and for a while, Miyokichi is okay with this, she is happy seeing the person she loves happy and knows what it is that they want to achieve in life.

Different camera works are employeed to show the different 

While Kiku was devoted to his practice, Sukeroku’s disdain for tradition grows. In the words of the characters, the two are compared in their way of performance. For Kiku, he embodies the characters and brings the audiences into the world that is being told; he is fluid in his selfhood when performing and tells the story as it is, as close as possible to its intention. Sukeroku is the opposite. All the characters become Sukeroku as he tells the story. He follows the general structure, but his method of delivery is unique to himself and how he feels at that moment; he is unstable but his leads to uniqueness in his telling of the story. If people watch Kiku to listen to the stories he tells, they watch Sukeroku to enjoy Sukeroku’s performance.

 The audience loves them for their individual styles, but Sukeroku’s style makes him shine out compared to the older generations and this results in him increasingly losing favor from the senior practitioners. Yet he was kept around since the audiences liked him, but as his fame increased so did his ego. This eventually results in him being excommunicated from his teacher.

Westernisation of entertainment in Japan, post-pacific war

And yet if we were to see his actions from a different perspective, we can see this as another form of struggle to keep the practice of Rakugo alive. At this point in history (and depicted in the series), Japan had been experiencing westernization of culture. Kiku works in a café, there is a jazz bar, and Rakugo has been losing its audience as time went by.

The two characters, Sukeroku and Kiku were the youngest practitioners; at least among those, we are introduced to. Thus the two promise each other to continue the practice, to keep it alive, and attempt to revitalize it. To them, Kiku who told the stories as they were would symbolize the tradition that has continued down for centuries, While Sukeroku would symbolize the constant change that is needed for the continued existence of the culture; thus they are not lost to the tide of time; they make a promise to both work together and keep the practice they love alive.

Konatsu. The daughter of Miyokichi and Sukeroku. She shows us just how many years passed since they ranaway

Yet this promise is left unkept. After Sukeroku’s excommunication, and Kiku’s rejection of Miyokichi’s advances, the two run away from the city to the countryside, have a child and start a family together. However, due to her rejection by Kiku, Miyokichi prevents Sukeroku from practicing Rakugo, as he did not have any other skills, he was unable to earn a living and became a drunk. Fed up with this, she runs away, leaving him and their daughter Konatsu. This belief becomes an obsession and she becomes delusional that Kikuhiko will one day come to save her from this misery.

Sukeroku: “No, I won’t drink this Sake. I don’t want this to have been just a dream”

 While this was happening, Kiku became better accepted by the senior members of the practice and built up enough fame to the point that there were people who wanted to be his disciple. However, to Kiku, Rakugo that has now lost Sukeroku to guide it to the future is only left to wither away and die. The more he believed this, the more convinced he was that his role was to see it off to the end.

 Yet he holds out hope that if he was just able to bring Sukeroku back, things might change. And after his teacher’s passing, he journeys out in search of him. He finds him eventually, and with effort was able to bring Sukeroku out of his drinking habit and bring him back to performing Rakugo, first at the nearby inn. The performance was successful and for a moment we see the possibility for their promise being kept. Sukeroku wants to go back to the city with Kiku, and start performing Rakugo again as a profession, the reason, not the least of which, the love his daughter shows for his performance.

Did this really happen?

Yet all goes astray when Miyokichi returns that exact night for Kiku and her obsession with him results in her attempt to commit double suicide with him. Sukeroku saves Kikuhiko in the end but ends up falling off the balcony and into the river below, this taking away his and Miyokichi’s life.

 His final words being “I trust you”.

What was he trusting Kiku with?

To take care of Konatsu?

To take care of Rakugo?

Or to take care of himself?

Our unreliable narrator begins to tell his story

Of course, we are later told that Kiku, or after this point Yakumo is an unreliable narrator, ironic, being that the person who is described in the series as the best storyteller being unreliable to us.

 There is one more concept we need to understand and use in understanding how to make tradition evolve and live on, and that is Repetition and difference from Gilles Deleuze; when used together with Butler’s performativity, it can help us greatly in this journey of understanding.

 That will be our focus in the next chapter.

 But to end this chapter, let us end it off with this consideration. With Sukeroku’s death, Yakumo completely lost his faith in Rakugo having a future. This leads to him both refusing to take any disciple, and also prevent Konatsu from trying to practice it. This obsession also leads to him being convinced that it was his destiny to witness the death of this practice, thus the title, to commit double suicide with Rakugo during the age of Showa Genroku.

 Role credits

[kabhi-haath-pakad-k-tu-mera]

If the Stars Align in Our Favour

Ch. 5 — The Result

“The path of life is twisted,

Fate, wickedly entwined,

Take hold of your intent,

The way ahead is clear.”

**********

The one day that Iqbal is home and rested long enough for her to broach the topic is right before they leave. It is, coincidentally, also a rare occasion wherein he is in bed before her. Not sleeping, no—because sleep is hard to come by in such times for everyone—but resting all the same. 

Sehmat steals covert glances at him through the mirror she is sitting before, brushing and tying up her hair with trembling fingers, though whether they are trembling due to the secret she is about to reveal or something else is anyone's guess.

She sets her comb down but does not get up, looking at the tired, worried, and wary woman in the mirror for a long minute. She lets out a soft sigh before getting up and making her way to the bed, pulling back the covers and settling under them as softly as possible so as to not disturb Iqbal, but once she is under the covers he shifts over and turns off the night-lamp beside their bed. She watches as he resumes his previous position, lying on the bed but not closing his eyes. He stares at the ceiling, deep in thought. She wishes she could read his mind. Everything would be so much easier if she could read his mind. She sighs again, turning her own eyes towards the ceiling, listening to the sound of silence—only the fan rotating on its axis and the voice of the nightlife. The cantonment is quieter than usual. Somewhere in it all is the quiet sound of Iqbal breathing—a reassuring sound, though she doesn't know if she would be able to hear it again after tonight. The thought builds a painful lump in her throat.

Iqbal breaks the unnerving silence softly. “Sehmat?” 

She turns to see him looking at her, concern and a question in his voice. 

“Yes?” she asks in an equally soft voice, not missing the involuntary tremor in it.

“Are you alright? You seem distressed.”

“Oh,” Sehmat breathes out, “yes I’m—” Words die in her throat. 

Yes I’m fine. It’s nothing. 

She could say this. She should say this. Except she’d be lying. And Iqbal would see through it.

“I …” she tries again, still wondering what to say. She pauses, turning towards the ceiling again. She can feel Iqbal’s eyes on her. He puts a comforting hand on her own, and she decides to go with the truth.

She takes in a deep breath and asks, voice carefully devoid of anything but curiosity, “What do you think of– of children?”

She feels his hand tighten on hers, feels him get up from his reclining position to look at her, and feels the careful deliberation in his voice as he answers, “They’re … alright, I suppose?” He pauses, and Sehmat sighs. “But …” he continues, voice even more careful than before, as if he were treading on eggshells, “... I had always hoped to have a family … and now that I—we are married …” he trails off, looking at Sehmat with an unreadable expression. She is still looking at the ceiling, watching the light from outside dancing on it. She swallows, picking at a stray strand of thread at the edge of her blanket. 

“Sehmat?” Iqbal says again, and the urgency in his voice compels her to finally look at him, worry, confusion, and what she thinks is hope, on his face.

“I have to tell you something,” she whispers, and Iqbal squeezes her hand softly. She entwines her fingers with his. “I’m pregnant.” 

Her heart is pounding as she whispers the last part of the word, eyes on Iqbal’s face trying to discern his reaction. It is not on either ends of the spectrum. There is a glimmer of happiness, yes, and his lips turn up in an awed smile, but more than that there is concern, and his eyes are searching hers. 

When a few moments of silence have passed and Iqbal’s initial shock has worn off, he asks, a hint of hesitation on his voice, “This is a good news … isn't it?” 

“Yes,” Sehmat says, a little surprised, “yes, of course.”

“Then why do you sound so worried?” he asks tenderly, drawing closer and brushing her cheek with his hand, “why do you look so scared?” 

Sehmat looks at him, more surprised than before, lips parted to speak but at a loss of words. He has caught her off guard. And in that moment she cannot help but say all that has been bothering her ever since they announced the war. 

“I am happy,” she says in a shaky voice, still looking at him, “but this is not the best time to have a child, is it?” She shuts her eyes, turning away. “You’re going off to fight. In a war.” 

Beside her she hears Iqbal sigh. 

“Who knows if– if you’ll even be–” she stops, unable to go on. She opens her eyes, leaning against the headboard, and looks at her hands instead of at him.

“Sehmat,” Iqbal sighs softly, drawing her against himself the way he always does to comfort her, her head leaning against his chest, listening to his beating heart, and his arms around her, giving her a sense of protection—however false it may be. 

"It's going to be okay," he says, pulling her closer, rubbing comforting circles on her skin, with surety neither of them can possibly have, but it serves to comfort her all the same. "I'll be back before you know it. And I'll be here to meet our child." 

She certainly hopes so.

**********

They go off to fight. 

She watches him approach the car from their bedroom window and her heart begins its descent to the pits of her stomach. It is barely dawn, the sky only now beginning to lighten, and the window pane pressed against her cheek is strikingly cold, but it helps in keeping away the waves of nausea which otherwise threaten to overpower her. 

Iqbal looks up towards her as if he had already known she was watching. It reminds her unnervingly of their wedding day. It hasn’t been too long since then, but that memory somehow feels as if it were of a different lifetime. He had known where to find her even then. They hold each other’s gaze for a moment, and Iqbal gives her a slight smile which she tries and fails to reciprocate. It is almost too much to take. Because this is it. This is war. This is war, and they are on opposite sides of it. There’s going to be a battle.  Her husband will be fighting in that battle. Iqbal might die. Countless others certainly will die—soldiers from her motherland and his. And however much she may want Iqbal to come back home, she wants her country to remain safe and sound more than anything. If she had been oblivious to the enormity of the situation before, she certainly isn’t now. The burden of the scene is beginning to settle around her like a blanket, one that is weighing her down unpleasantly.  

The world is grey, she decides, not black and white as she had once believed. She had been naive back then. There is no good side or bad side in war, there is your country, and your duty to your country. And that is what they’re all doing—serving a higher entity, a noble entity. Their countries. She had always known that she'd do anything, give up anything, for her country. And now she is. She doesn't regret her actions, no. Because regret and guilt are two separate emotions. The same way her duty and her conscience are separate. One always overpowers the other. No, Sehmat does not regret her actions, does not regret saving her country from being caught unawares, but watching her family members—because that is what they are. Family—climb into the vehicle does wrack her with guilt. If they were to get hurt or …  or die … 

He gets in and they set off. Her eyes stay on the vehicle until it is a tiny speck indiscernible from its surroundings, and she doesn't leave the window even after that—she hasn't got the strength, and there are too many things for her to brood about. 

**********

It is Munira bhabhi who pulls her out of her brooding. Well, her, and the investigating officers who come to the Syed house to investigate. It's a regular investigation they say, a part of the head-count they've been conducting while they're looking into the fire. It's been a week since the men have been gone. Sehamt does not miss the way their eyes stay on her suspiciously once they find out she is Indian by birth. 

It is again Munira bhabhi who takes charge. Protecting Sehmat fiercely and glaring the officers down into submission. And it works. It works, because they are a part of the Syed Family. Probably the most powerful army family in the cantonment. They leave them alone soon enough, or, at least, pretend to. Sehmat sees them looking from inconspicuous nooks and crannies, her own spy's eyes finding them with practiced ease, and gliding over them as if they weren't ever there with the same practiced ease. 

She doesn't go to Saadiq anymore, nor to Imtiaz to buy flowers. The first time that she had set foot in Sarvar's store has also been her last. She keeps up the pretences until the number of spies keeping track of her lessen, and only then does she dare step into her own shop—not that there is anything other than business to look forward to over there. She has had no contact with South for a month. It worries her.

**********

Two weeks since they've been gone later they hear news on the radio of Pakistan's aerial attacks on Indian Air fields. It's December the 4th. Sehmat's heart positively stops beating. 

**********

A day later they hear of Indian attack on the harbour, something she knows is because of her information. The destruction is huge, positively crippling. At least one thing she is sure of: Pakistan will not win this war. Not with their Navy and Air Force in this state: crippled crafts and fuel and ammunition that is burning up the sea. 

The civilian lives are in danger too. Munira bhabhi's family—her mother and father and her brother's wife and children—were hard to contact, but they're okay. For the time being, at least. The guilt she is feeling grows as she sees Munira's eyes shining.

**********

Four days later there is another attack—by India, on Pakistan—on the same Karachi harbour. The fire from the first one is still blazing. Shaken whispers around the cantonment tell of abandoned Naval plans and a PNS Ghazi. 

Sehmat notices the spies coming back, their eyes trained on her.

Perhaps, she thinks, it's time to visit Suraiya appa. 

**********

One week, or less, later, there is news when Sehmat comes down for breakfast. Not of a victory or of a defeat, but of the end of the war. Of an Instrument of Surrender. Of a country called Bangladesh (so they won. Relief like nothing floods her soul). Of soldiers taken as prisoners of war—not in the west, no, but in the east. Her heart goes cold anyway—she doesn't know where they are. However she—and Munira bhabhi, going by how pale she looks—prefer not having to think about that. 

They go to the Mosque to pray instead. Spies don't follow Sehmat anymore, not after Suriya appa's unconditional and strongly worded order to the chief of the investigating agency—who owed to her and Colonel Siddiqi his position—about how to treat the wives of officers gone to war. There is still nervousness in her as she steps out of the house and towards the Main market. The only respite she has is the Sarvar Store still being open—so they don't know—and of Imtiaz giving her a not unintentional look. 

She looks pregnant now—she has gained the weight. She still hasn't told her superiors. A frightening thought settles into her mind that she pushes away. She doesn't know if Sarvar or Imtiaz or Saadiq would convey this piece of information to Mir sahab. On one hand, it's the logical thing to do. On the other hand, they wouldn't know if this was ever the part of a plan. She herself had been planning on waiting until at some opportune moment, in some celebration or other, she had the chance to meet Kabir sahab, or, more easily, his wife Pallavi. What other way does she have, that is not suspicious? The phones don't take calls from India yet. They won't for a sufficiently long time.

**********

A month and half after they had left, the men come back. All three of them, each in one piece. They have scars—physical and mental ones—and they have a hardness behind their eyes. It is the humiliation of defeat and the unsettling truth of a battle. They don't look at her any differently though. They truly believe she is of here now. 

And they are happy—they had apparently already known when they had come back, she is told that Iqbal told them right before they entered the battlefield—for her and Iqbal. For the future that is to come. 

Iqbal is no less soft than before—she doesn't think she could see him in any other light, this side of him stands out so much—but he is less like himself. The same hardness behind his eyes too, though they soften considerably when they are trained on her. It makes her conscience heavy.

But her family is home now, and her Home—her country—is safe, and perhaps, perhaps, so is she. 

**********

Read Chapter 1

Read Chapter 2 

Read Chapter 3 

Read Chapter 4 

[archiveddvrpg]

Congratulations, LIZ! You’ve been accepted for the role of PARIS with an approved FC change to Sean Teale. Admin Jen: All I have to say here is GOD BLESS. That’s it. That’s my note. God, I’ve waited so long for us to have Paris grace our dash, and your take on him was everything I could ever want and more. You captured Priam’s essence perfectly, from the moral ambiguity that surrounds him, to the existentialism that drives his worldviews and motivations. At the same time, you’ve added your own touch to those concepts and made them your own, like with the headcanon of his grandfather’s death. It’s clear that you have such a deep, profound understanding of who he is and all that he could be, and I love it. I absolutely love it. Please read over the checklist and send in your blog within 24 hours.

WELCOME TO THE MOB.

OUT OF CHARACTER

Alias | Liz

Age | 28

Preferred Pronouns | She/her

Activity Level | Thanks to quarantine, I imagine quite consistent.

Timezone | GMT +4.

How did you find the rp?  | Used to play Tib hehe:)

Current/Past RP Accounts |

https://tiberius-capulets.tumblr.com/

https://maksim-kurylenko.tumblr.com/

https://castillo-adrian.tumblr.com/

IN CHARACTER

Character | Paris, Priam Taravella (I’d like to request FC change to Sean Teale and age Priam up to 26, if possible?).

What drew you to this character? |

Perhaps, if not his grandfather’s death, Priam would’ve always been the child his parents wanted: a docile, polite son, with ambition and drive to take over and expand the family business. It’s not that the death of Salvatore Taravella, Sr. affected him in a heart-breaking way, no, Priam hardly spent any time with him and he remembers nothing about the man. But what would become a life-altering occasion in young Taravella’s life, is that unlike most of the children at the age of three, he understood the irreversibility and universality of death right away.

As he grew up, Priam had been defined by the revelation that life was a march to our eventual demise since the moment we were born, a race against the clock. The matters such as career, riches and family business seemed so trivial, so unworthy of his time. He started to believe, you only live once, but if you do it right, once is enough. That chase of what is the meaningful way of living had led to multiple metamorphoses of Priam Taravella. He developed a tendency to chase one experience after another, but not in a hedonistic way, but more existential. There was a deeply woven thread in the everyday being he wanted to discover and pull it until it led to where he belonged, where he wouldn’t feel the ever-present void.

Maybe if his parents had been around and taught him right from wrong, he wouldn’t need to discover and explore life all on his own, on his own terms.

He’s an enigma, and that’s what drove me to him the most. What makes him dangerous is his unpredictability, his failure to relate to basic human motivations, he’s a puzzle that can’t be solved.

What is a future plot idea you have in mind for the character? |

The Wild Card

One thing Priam had never been good at, is being told what path to follow. Despite the fact that ranks and order are integral in the mob operations, and he understands that, Priam is who he is – a man marching to his own beat. I would love him concoct and execute something of massive proportions - something that could result in utter wrath from Capulet leaders, or a great victory for them (or maybe both).

The North Star

Given how important his moral ambiguousness is to Priam’s character arc, it would be interesting to explore someone entering his life and trying to become his North Star, his moral compass. I’d love to explore his nihilist worldview being challenged and him thurst into the uncharted waters of wanting to do the right thing.

The Devil on his Shoulder

I’d also love to explore at some point Paris being dragged on the opposite side of the moral spectrum. Maybe an event or a person pushes him into cold-blooded murder, torture, or something he normally wouldn’t see himself doing.

Are you comfortable with killing off your character? | Yes.

IN DEPTH

For someone who thinks so much about death, smoking cigarette after cigarette makes him a walking contradiction. He’s full of them, Priam, of contradictions.

The prodigal prince leaves his 1966 Chevloret Sting Ray in the parking lot of his office building and covers the short distance from there to the Castelvecchio Bridge on foot, enjoying the brisk Spring weather, Verona twilight and a cigarette in his hand. It’s been two years since his tech start-up won a government contract and launched his mutually beneficial relationship with Cosimo. Priam provides Capulets with information, more valuable than any weapon. His company produces technology for Italy’s law enforcement: facial recognition software, thermal imaging and automatic license plate recognition. This makes Cosimo’s soldiers virtually invisible to the law enforcement and any enemy – traceable.

On top of that, despite his nonexistent relationship with his parents, Priam still is a Taravella. A legacy. No wonder the king wants him on his side forever, vowen into the Capulet family life as a future son-in-law.

“If I were a sentimental man, I’d say it’s a beautiful starry night,” the tiger of Verona meets him standing on the bridge with a menacing grin, “But I’m not.”

“I never really liked looking at the night’s sky,” Priam muses. Another contradiction, considering he spends most of nights awake, “stars at merely old photographs. In reality, they’re probably all dead by now.” His last words drift off, distracting by the two of Tiberius’s brutes holding a man on his knees. Priam recognises the man as the CEO of his competitor start-up, the one in consideration for the government contract, just like Priam’s.

“I believe I’ve informed Cosimo there’s no need for taking extra measures. I’m absolutely confident I’ll win the bid this year, too,” Priam turns to Tiberius, demanding an explanation.

“…and Cosimo takes your word for it. But, this sniveling piece of shit is trying to find dirt on you and expose some of your… connections. I say we shoot the bastardo and dump him in the water. What do you say?” The tiger presents a tempting offer.

There is no fate worse than death. Death is final. Does Priam hate the man enough to subject to what he fears the most? But the power of having a life stripped away by a mere nod of his head is intoxicating and Priam finds himself drunk on it. Not just that, the power of having others to pull the trigger for you. If you think about it, the idiot brought this on himself, didn’t he? If only he could’ve accepted the loss like a real man. But he’s not a real man, is he?

So Priam gives the nod that the beast in Tiberius covets so much. The sound of silenced pistol pierces the air sharply, but for only their own ears to hear. It’s almost like a twig snapped, and man wasn’t murdered with a bullet in between his eyes.

A thud and now lifeless body belongs to the Adige river now.

Priam looks down on his pristine white shirt. Bloodstain on his chest is like a map of a violent new continent. Taravella didn’t pull the trigger, but the blood still ended up smearing him. How symbolic, he thinks to himself.

“I’ll see on a Sunday dinner, then,” Tiberius bids goodbye. It has became a tradition – Sunday dinners with the whole Capulet family.

“I’ll see you,” Priam pets him on the shoulder like a friend he pretends to be. As if. Tiberius is no intellectual equal to him, merely a capable weapon. All of them are, save a handful of people he’s met in his life.

Castlevecchio Bridge is his favourite place in Verona. After the Capulet soldiers leave, Priam lingers, overlooks the pulsating city. How many times has he come here? The bridge, the pondering, the agony of breaking through personal limitations had been constant in a life of ever-metamorposing Priam Taravella. Art, literature, business, philosophy, sports, organised crime… all instruments to help Priam past his limiting horizons into spheres of ever-expanding realization. As he crosses threshold after threshold, conquering dragon after dragon, the stature of the divinity that he summons to his highest wish increases, until it subsumes the cosmos. Finally, the mind breaks the bounding sphere of the cosmos to a realization transcending all experiences of form - all symbolizations, all divinities: a realization of the ineluctable void.

Extras: moodboard

[starryikesen-blog]

boyfriend! kenshin

CONFESSION

- while you were stuck in the sengoku period, it didn’t take much time before you knew that kenshin uesugi was still alive and well and very much thirsty for war - even though your magazine says that by this time, he should be dead, but you merely brushed it off as coincidence— or that something wacky happened, in which it wasn’t exactly your priority to find out, given the situation in azuchi - however, he piqued your interest when nobunaga brought you along to battle, when kenshin wanted to have a showdown with him and saw you clinging onto him for life - of course he had heard that nobunaga had a woman on his arm, the princess of azuchi, but he wasn’t expecting him to bring onto the battlefield - after all, you looked terrified, confused, but at the same time, your face was blazing with defiance - it made him raise an eyebrow, that expression of yours— and as much as he first scoffed at the news of nobunaga falling victim to love, he couldn’t deny that he saw reason in it - regardless, your first encounter with kenshin certainly left a deep impression on the both of you - you on the other hand, thought that it was almost a pity how someone as stunning and graceful as him dedicated his life to fighting, despite the dangers of it all - you could tell that he genuinely enjoyed fighting, and had a natural flair to it— no one else moved as swiftly as he did on the battlefield, and he was like a fish in water, in his natural habitat - the fact causes you to gain some sort of admiration towards him, and at the same time, induced fear - the sight of him cutting down soldiers after soldiers effortlessly caused a chill to creep up your spine; it might not mean much to warlords, but you saw it as him (them) taking away lives without so much as a blink of an eye - it wasn’t exactly traumatic to say, but you were pretty shaken to the core; really, how could you not when you’ve never seen war before? - you didn’t want to trouble the other guys with more of your problems, so you mainly kept it to yourself and resumed back to the life of a chatelaine - that is, until you went out to town one day to get some rolls of cloth and to pick up a book for mitsunari - it was an absolutely normal and mundane day, with no strange occurrences— or so you thought - while you started to head back to the towering azuchi castle, you felt a strong tug on your hair, and the sharp pain on your scalp stopped you from walking - you couldn’t turn your head well, but you caught a glimpse of a man behind you, and it struck you that he’s taking your hair clip away from you— he must be an armed thief of some sort - the hair clip, as you remembered, wasn’t particularly glamorous, but since the maids put it in your hair, it must be of some value - perhaps it might be best for you not to do it, but you immediately turned around and chased him down - it might be because of your nature, but having something snatched away from you fueled those reflexes of yours - and so you chased him, unknowingly, past the borders of azuchi and near the forested areas - you knew you made a wrong move when the bandit turned around without warning, and brandished a sword at you, charging with a feral look on his face - you couldn’t process everything quick enough, and even as the glint of metal and the blade descended towards you at an alarming rate, your feet remained rooted to the ground, eyes wide and filled with fear - you were ready to feel pain, anything, but a shadow flew past, and someone collapsed with a heavy thud onto the grass - that someone wasn’t you, as you were very much alive and well, and you now saw that shadow properly— clad in white and blue, and a head of pale blonde hair, radiating an aura that makes you shift back a little - you knew this person, and he was none other and uesugi kenshin - “are you alright?” - you managed a small nod, and could see now that where the bandit has fallen, a light cut ran across his torso, albeit not too large - the slow paced movements of his chest shown that he was still alive and breathing, just probably passed out from the sudden pain - whilst you were wondering all these, kenshin started to walk off into the vast field to god knows where - “hey, thank you. i owe you one.” - barely turning around, he sighs, shoving his sword back into its sheath - “don’t be silly. shouldn’t you be more concerned over the fact that you’re with an enemy now?” - “now you’re the one who’s being silly. you could’ve killed me any time now, and yet you didn’t. you’re not going to.” - kenshin paused in his footsteps, muttered something under his breath (it was too soft to hear) and grunted before stalking off - that was your second encounter with him, all because of a simple hair clip - kenshin found his mind wandering towards you at times, and more so often since there was no war he could focus on - he would think along the lines of you being a curious one, before chiding himself for thinking of you, and eventually drag either sasuke or yukimura, occasionally shingen to spar with him to vent his frustrations - there’s just this particular urge for him to keep you by his side, and much to his annoyance, he starts waking up in the middle of the night, panicked that he can no longer recall your voice as clearly - everyone else thinks he’s losing it because of the lack of war, but the three people know better, and under some rentless questioning, they finally realise that hey, kenshin might be in love with you - or attracted, it didn’t really matter - regardless, they’re definitely worried by how he’s going to approach this issue, and decide to aid him by setting up a whole scene for the both of you - kenshin’s either thinking along the lines of kidnapping you and locking you up, or giving up on you without even trying, and subsequently become a sad, sad man - both methods were of course, not what they wanted - shingen’s got experience, and he knows kenshin well enough; sasuke has brains and familiarity with both parties; yukimura has the guts and bluntness - and so, without kenshin knowing, while doing some espionage in azuchi, yukimura hit it up with you and lured you into the tea house where kenshin was serenely sipping sake - of course you thought it was strange that the usually sulking merchant actually started a conversation with you (with a smile, no less!) but you were familiar with owners of the tea house— as such, you saw no danger in accepting his offer - but there was only one person inside there, and when you turned around, the young merchant was nowhere to be seen - there it was again, blond wispy hair dancing in the breeze, a lean back with white, blue and black waltzing on the fabric, and you stopped breathing for a while, too awestruck by the scene - even with his back facing you, kenshin was utterly beautiful, and you wished this was a picture you could keep and see it again and again - you were attracted to him; there was no doubt about it, but you wanted to know him more, dig out the reason behind the loneliness of his pale, mismatched eyes, and you wanted to see a smile on his thin lips - yukimura completely gone from your mind, you settled opposite him quietly, as kenshin glanced up, a startled expression gracing his features - you could see the bottles of empty sake, and a dish of what you recognised as pickled plums, as nobunaga once told you that a particular person liked to enjoy his sake with them - you smiled inwardly for a moment, before he reached out a little towards your rested hands on the wooden table - there was a faraway and dreamy look in those usually cold and devoid irises; cool fingertips touched yours, for a split second, just barely brushing past yours, but it was enough for you to shiver a little at the sensation - it was strange how your body reacted to such a simple touch, but it was pleasant - you wanted more, but kenshin snatched his hand away, face hardening by the moments, and his eyebrows were now furrowed tightly together - there wasn’t a need for words, just a conversation of actions, and emotions, as you grasped the fair, retreating hand in yours, faintly smiling as you looked at him straight in the eye - it was peculiar how not a sound was made while all this happened; but you knew then, that you wouldn’t be able to leave him once you held him, and both of you made a promise in the silence

CUDDLING + KISSING

- kisses with kenshin is either really passionate and usually leading to something ahem or really gentle - again, this has to do with the two ends of his whole spectrum of emotions for you, ranging from this hot desire in his chest to the fragile, precarious love you two share - he loves it when you give him a small peck on the lips whenever you see him, as it leaves him calmer and happier and he has this little satisfied smile going on - you pull this trick whenever you see him being stressed over or troubled by something, for example, in meetings with the other three guys - you’d bring in some tea and quietly pour a cup for each of them, kenshin being the last, and you would kneel beside him, pressing your lips to his cheek as you handed him a small cup - of course no one really minded it, except for yukimura who’s blushing like he’s the one being kissed - but after that happened, kenshin would find himself almost expecting you to do the same every time they had war council, and when you so often did not pop in, he looked gloomy - in some ways, kenshin is very much like a child, especially after you two got intimate - his hugging position would probably be cradling you like a life-sized doll; don’t get me wrong, this sounds creepy and weird but it’s really not - it’s just another sign of how much he loves you and at times like these, he just wants to hug you as gently as he can in his arms - sometimes, you’d be in his lap, your legs over his overstretched one, and the side of your head would be resting against his neck - other times, he would just hug you normally after wrapping the both of you up in the warm futon - hugs are of a precious and vulnerable side of him, i’d say - his favourite place to kiss you is everywhere and anywhere, because he’s honestly the type not to have a “favourite” and just kiss wherever he wants to - there’s pretty much no stopping this man

EMOTIONAL

- okay, so kenshin has shown a few sides of him in the game as far as i know: the initial coldness of him, the extremely possessive side of him, and the hesitant yet sweet side - if you didn’t know, all these stems from a past incident where he lost someone he held dearly and loved - kenshin was still a teenager at that time, he couldn’t understand that it wasn’t his fault, and thought that it was failure on his part for not being able to do anything - i would go as far to say that it must be traumatic for him, and because of this, he’s being trapped in the past - when someone experiences something unpleasant, they will have form sort of a protective stance towards it unconsciously - for kenshin, he developed the extreme possessive personality he has, believing that he can protect and not hurt anyone by keeping them away from any human contact - again, this logic is very childlike, simply because he’s developed it from a tender age - kenshin would’ve also believed that he couldn’t protect anyone with his own two hands, and can only kill with them; it’s part of his gift since he was born, and he definitely takes pride in it, but part of him thinks otherwise - character analysis aside, he knows that you don’t want to be locked up in the least, and he respects that after you managed to talk him out of his dilemmas a little - but there are times where he just really, really wants to keep you away from everyone’s eyes, any possible danger; be it a twisted form of love, it’s his way of showing it initially - there are times where in the middle of the night, he wakes up with a start, sweating from the horrors of his nightmare— you lying lifelessly on the cold hard ground, eyes blank and blood seeping into the fabric of your kimono - he almost cries when he turns his head, and sees you sprawled out beside him, snoring softly and peacefully - no signs of blood, no imminent danger, nothing except for you, now stirring slightly and cuddling up against his waist - and he thinks that he’s stupid for worrying so much, when you’re so strong and able to hold up both him and yourself - it’s all new and he’s hesitant about it, but he would give it a try for you, to lift off the heavy weight on his chest - you have to reassure him over and over again, in both words and actions, so that he eventually knows that a soaring bird in the sky is better than a caged one - kenshin has so many layers to him, and you have to peel it off one by one to the core; each one is meaningful and part of him nonetheless

DOMESTIC

- honestly, kenshin wouldn’t need someone housewife-like more like, he’s the housewife - he likes things clean and arranged; he’s good at taking care of himself, maintaining a healthy diet and all (except too much sake, probably) - that’s why when he holds banquets, it’s too familiar of a sight for him to carry you bridal-style to your room, with you red and slumped in his arms - and when you wake up with a bad hangover in the morning, kenshin’s sure to be there with some hot soup and tea and telling you that you won’t need to worry about your duties in the castle for the day - he’d definitely pop in whenever possible, entertaining your every whim like he always does because he’s just so soft for you - when you send him off into battle, he’s always worried about your safety even if it should be the other way round, and once, you smiled while arranging his clothes - “it’ll be okay. i promise i will be the first to greet you when you come back, alright?” - he really just wanted to stay indoors with you that day, but at least he can use that as a motivation to finish up the battle quickly - usually fighting puts him in a good mood, but his face is just lit with joy when you come running out, a grin stretched on your lips, and he hops down his horse, arms out, ready for you to plunge into his embrace - he’s only surprised when your arms lock around his neck, and lips enveloping his - it was for a split second, but never did kenshin’s vassals think that they could see him that happy - since then, it’s been a routine, and kenshin’s smiles has never faltered one bit upon seeing you rush out of the castle

FINAL VERDICT

- someone once said “the journey here was an ordeal from start to finish, but i count myself fortunate for being able to meet you at the end of it.” i think this sums up the relationship perfectly.

[fionnwhitehead]

FIONN WHITEHEAD

 By Jonathan Shia for The Last Magazine

For any young actor, making a screen début as the title character in a dark and unconventional television miniseries would seem to be enough excitement for one year. But not for Fionn Whitehead, who, even while filming that auspicious start in the supernatural ITV three-parter HIM last spring, found himself enmeshed in the clandestine, months-long audition process for Christopher Nolan’s gripping and evocative new World War II film Dunkirk—and eventually emerged as its young lead. “I think most actors would agree that it’s easier to audition when you’re already doing something, because you can’t have the audition occupy all of your mind,” Whitehead says. “But it was still Chris Nolan, and I was still quaking.”

Practically unknown beforehand, Whitehead now finds himself as the literal poster boy for one of this summer’s most anticipated films, a powerful new work from the famously secretive director of The Dark Knight, Interstellar, and Inception also starring Tom Hardy, Kenneth Branagh, Cillian Murphy, and, as you may have heard, One Direction’s Harry Styles. Set for release this Friday after months of speculation, Dunkirk stars Whitehead as Tommy, a private in the British Army trying to make his way off the battlefield back home. “We didn’t know anything,” he recalls of the audition process. “We didn’t know what the script was, how many roles there were, what the roles were. I was going into auditions and I was waiting in waiting rooms with actors twice my age of different nationalities. You really just had no idea right up until the end.”

That furtiveness lasted long after Whitehead secured his part as well, as he had to keep quiet even as he continued working on HIM. “I was finishing HIM at the same time, and they were all so interested in how it was going because they bent over backwards to let me go to these auditions,” he recalls. “They kept asking me, but I wasn’t allowed to tell anyone. Every day, they’d be like, ‘Have you heard anything?’ and I’d just have to be like, ‘No, it’s not looking good really.’ And they were like, ‘That’s fine, never mind, there’ll be plenty more.’ I just felt so guilty.”Raised in Greater London as the son of a jazz musician, Whitehead, now twenty, is no stranger to the vagaries of the artist’s life. “Everyone knows that going into any creative industry is hard to get started,” he explains. “It’s hard to break out in, it’s hard to make money in. My brother and sisters and I were always encouraged to do what we wanted, but we knew the realities of the situation of going into something like that. My sister’s a musician and my other sister trained in dance, so my parents used to always make the joke, ‘Could someone just become an accountant?’” With Dunkirk on his CV, Whitehead’s future in the industry seems secure, but his out-of-nowhere story belies years of passion and hard work. As a child, he joined the National Youth Theatre and spent years in amateur theater before leaving high school to focus on auditioning while working as a barista. After being rejected everywhere during his first round of applications to drama school at seventeen, Whitehead was preparing to reapply when he landed the role in HIM, helping crystalize what had been a calling since childhood. “I think for everyone that starts doing acting, the initial draw is to making people laugh,” he says, “and then as you go on, it becomes the whole thing of adopting different personas. Being able to put yourself in other people’s shoes and understand different ways of living has always fascinated me. I was really into history and sociology at school, and being able to take stuff outside of your own experience and try to see from someone else’s point of view was very interesting.” In Dunkirk, that someone else would be a teenage soldier caught in one of military history’s most famous evacuations. To prepare for the role, Whitehead visited museums and researched diary excepts and letters from the time, and took the opportunity of two extra weeks of training in Dunkirk itself before filming started to get to know the land. “I was just imagining how I would react to being in a situation like that,” he recalls. “They weren’t prepared for the things they came up against. That’s the thing that’s obvious when you read these accounts, no one really knew what to expect. They’d been told, but I think until you’re in a situation like that it’s impossible to be ready. The sheer terror of going through something like that I think is the hardest thing to connect with.”Still, Whitehead says that, despite its setting, he wouldn’t describe Dunkirkas a war film—he sees it as more of a “suspense thriller because it focuses much more on the personal than the political”—and certainly not one in the typical patriotic and self-celebratory vein. “One of the parallels people have said to me is that it’s a war epic, like Saving Private Ryan, but I think a big difference is that Saving Private Ryan is very much an all-guns-blazing, heroic film, whereas this is all about survival,” he explains. “These kids are trying to get home. I think it’s very honest about the realities of war and they’re just really scared and trying to survive. As opposed to going in on the attack, it’s much more about escape.” After the heavy emotional and physical toll of filming Dunkirk—he spent many summer days swimming through the ocean in full military uniform including a wool overcoat—Whitehead passed the remaining months of 2016 working on The Children Act, an adaptation of an Ian McEwan novel directed by Richard Eyre and starring Emma Thompson and Stanley Tucci due out later this year. He plays Adam, a young Jehovah’s Witness who refuses a necessary blood transfusion for religious reasons, in the High Court drama. “I was very keen to go from Dunkirk to that because they’re such opposite ends of the spectrum,” he says. “It was really challenging, but in a different way.” Still living in southwest London, Whitehead has spent much of the first half of this year back on stage, making his professional theater début as a very contemporary teenager in Natives at the Southwark Playhouse. “It’s completely different to doing film and TV work,” he says. “I don’t think one is better than the other, but it’s good to have a healthy balance.” And whether he finds himself onstage or onscreen, in 1940 or 2017, Whitehead, even at such a young age, seems to understand intrinsically how to slip smoothly into any role. “I think whenever you play a character, there’s an element of yourself and you have to find the character in yourself,” he says. “It’s taking the character and deconstructing it and seeing how to take it into your own personality.” Dunkirk is out Friday.

[filmspun]

The invention of Paris began with a bridge.

Today, people simply flash an image of the Eiffel Tower to evoke Paris instantly. It’s the monument that offers immediate proof that you are looking at the City of Light. In the 17th century, the Eiffel Tower’s role was played by a bridge: the Pont Neuf. The New Bridge was Henri IV’s initial idea for winning over the people of his freshly conquered capital city, and it managed that daunting task with brio. For the first time, the monument that defined a city was an innovative urban work rather than a cathedral or a palace. And Parisians rich and poor immediately adopted the Pont Neuf: They saw it as the symbol of their city and the most important place in town.

In April 1598, Henri IV signed the Edict of Nantes: the Wars of Religion were officially over. A month earlier, the new king had already registered documents announcing his intention to complete the bridge. Henri III had offered no justification for the project; his successor, characteristically, laid out clear goals for it. He presented the bridge as a “convenience” for the inhabitants of Paris. He also characterized it as a necessary modernization of the city’s infrastructure—Paris’ most recent bridge, the Notre-Dame bridge, was by then badly outdated and far “too narrow,” as the king remarked, to deal with traffic over the Seine, which Henri IV described as rapidly expanding because new kinds of vehicles were now sharing the bridge with those who crossed on horseback and on foot. The new bridge would be financed in a previously untested manner: The king levied a tax on every cask of wine brought into Paris. Thus, as city historian Henri Sauval, writing in the 1660s, phrased it, “the rich and drunkards” paid for this urban work.

The construction of a new bridge over the Seine was initiated by Henri IV’s predecessor, the last king of the Valois dynasty, Henri III, who laid the first stone in May 1578. Some early projects conceived of a very different bridge, most notably, with shops and houses lining each side. In 1587, construction was just becoming visible above the water line when life in Paris was upended by religious violence. With the city in chaos, work on the bridge ceased for more than a decade.

The New Bridge became the first celebrity monument in the history of the modern city because it was so strikingly different from earlier bridges. It was built not of wood, but of stone; it was fireproof and meant to endure—it is now in fact the oldest bridge in Paris. The Pont Neuf was the first bridge to cross the Seine in a single span. It was, moreover, most unusually long—160 toises or nearly 1,000 feet—and most unusually wide—12 toises or nearly 75 feet—far wider than any known city street.

The bridge proved essential to the flow of traffic across Paris: Before, just getting to the Louvre from the Left Bank had been a famously tortuous endeavor that, for all those not wealthy enough to have a boat waiting to ferry them across, required the use of two bridges and a long walk on each side. The New Bridge also played a crucial role in the process by which the Right Bank became fully part of the city: In 1600, its only major attraction was the Louvre, whereas by the end of the century, the Right Bank showcased important residential architecture and urban works, from the Place Royale to the Champs-Élysées. In addition, whenever a major event transpired in seventeenth-century Paris, it either took place on the Pont Neuf or was first talked about on the Pont Neuf.

No prior bridge had had to deal with anything like the load the New Bridge was intended to bear—most significantly, a kind of weight that in 1600 was just becoming a serious consideration: vehicular transport. Earlier cities had only had to contend with transport that was relatively small and light: carts and wagons. In the final decades of the sixteenth century, personal carriages were just beginning to be seen in cities such as London and Paris. Nevertheless, with great foresight, each of Henri IV’s documents on the Pont Neuf adds new kinds of vehicles to the list of those to be accommodated. He was thus the first ruler to struggle with what would become a perennial concern for modern urban planning: the necessity of maintaining an infrastructure capable of handling an ever greater mass of vehicles.

The 18th-century map above depicts the statue of Henri IV positioned in the middle of the bridge, the first public statue in the history of Paris. Parisians immediately turned the novel kind of monument into the most popular meeting place in the city. They created expressions such as “let’s meet by the Bronze King,” or “I’ll wait for you beneath the Bronze Horse.”

The enthusiasm with which Parisians welcomed the bridge helps explain why it became one of those rare public works that actually shape urban life. On the New Bridge, Parisians rich and poor came out of their houses and began to enjoy themselves in public again after decades of religious violence. The Pont Neuf became the first truly communal entertainment space in the city: Since access cost nothing, it was open to all. The greatest nobles disported themselves in ways amazingly unorthodox for a setting where anyone could see them. In February 1610, the 16-year-old Duc de Vendôme (Henri IV’s illegitimate son) was seen running around on the bridge engaged in a “heated battle with snowballs.”

The sidewalks on the Pont Neuf were the first the world had seen since Roman roads and something that had never been seen in a Western city. And no one knew what to call those who used these sidewalks. In official municipal documents, the people who walked there were called gens de pied, literally “people on foot,” a military term for foot soldiers. By the 1690s, French dictionaries included a new term, piéton, a pedestrian. Authors of guidebooks, aware that their readers would have had no previous experience with the phenomenon, explained, as Claude de Varennes did in 1639, that sidewalks were “absolutely reserved for pedestrians.” Pedestrians saw themselves for the first time as kings of the river.

And on the other end of the social spectrum, it was at the base of the Pont Neuf that public bathing in the Seine became popular, giving the least fortunate Parisians the chance to cool off from the summer heat. Soon after the bridge was opened, bathers and sunbathers began to congregate just below the bridge, in full view of all those crossing the Seine.

François Colletet’s periodical Le Journal (The Daily), reports that during the long hot summer of 1716, the police were obliged to step in when nude sunbathers were spotted, “on the riverbank by the Pont Neuf, where they were lying and walking about completely naked.” An order was issued “to forbid men from staying out on the sand by the Pont Neuf in the nude.” The Pont Neuf was a great social leveler.

No one could have predicted how many activities would soon be vying for space on the bridge. To begin with, the Pont Neuf provided one of the original illustrations of the big city’s ever-accelerating appetite for news and of the rapidity with which technologies were invented to satisfy that craving. Rumors quickly spread through the crowd, giving rise to an expression: c’est connu comme le Pont Neuf—“everybody knows that already.” For the most part, however, news spread in far more organized ways.

The Pont Neuf was also built just when the use of vehicles of all kinds to get around in Paris was about to skyrocket. And because of the New Bridge’s size and its central location, a great many conveyances used it to cross the river. In no time at all, it thus became the poster child for what was quickly perceived to be one of the modern city’s greatest ills: the traffic jam.

The existence of this informal newsroom on the bridge explains the way in which political sedition erupted in 1648, when violence returned to the streets of Paris for the first time since the 1590s. That August, civil war broke out after the arrest of a beloved member of the Parisian Parlement, Pierre Broussel. Broussel lived very near the bridge, as did the future author of one of the definitive accounts of the conflict, the Cardinal de Retz.

The first French newspaper, Jean Richer’s Mercure françois, or “French Mercury,” began publication in 1611, well after the bridge had opened. It discussed a full year’s news at a time and appeared only several years after the events it described: The initial volume, for example, included coverage of 1604. To know what was going on in their city, Parisians relied on the Pont Neuf.

An image from about 1700 is the original depiction of a traffic jam: it has a double title, “The Pont Neuf” and “l’embarras de Paris.” In the course of the 17th century and particularly in its final decades, that word, embarras, which until then had meant “embarrassment” or “confusion,” acquired a new meaning: “The encounter in a street of several things that block each other’s way.” A new kind of urban “confusion” had taken shape.

Retz was thus able to provide eyewitness testimony to the chain reaction set off “within fifteen minutes” of Broussel’s arrest at his home. The proximity of the Pont Neuf guaranteed that many Parisians were immediately informed of his arrest; they quickly formed an angry horde. The Royal Guard was on the bridge even as this was happening. The soldiers beat a retreat, but with a screaming mob on their heels. In no time at all, the crowd had grown to between 30,000 and 40,000. Retz described the “sudden and violent conflagration that spread from the Pont Neuf through the entire city. Absolutely everyone took up arms.” And later, when the opposition forces obtained Broussel’s release, observers noted “the cries of joy” that erupted from “the middle of the Pont Neuf.”

Engraved images of crucial people and events in the news were posted on the bridge. They were also available for sale in the shops that many printers set up either on or near the bridge. The same technique was used for printed news. Placards and posters of varying sizes were displayed prominently on walls throughout Paris, but nowhere more so than on the Pont Neuf. Contemporary accounts describe people reading aloud the posted news for those unable to read.

Until the first professional theaters opened their doors in the 1630s, the Pont Neuf was the center of the Parisian theatrical scene. Open-air performances contributed to the traffic gridlock, though not nearly so much as another kind of urban spectacle that also drew crowds to the bridge: shopping. As soon as the New Bridge was completed, a street market began. You could find trinkets, fashion accessories, and the most fetching bouquets in the city. Booksellers were the first to set up shop; there were soon at least 50 bookshops on the bridge.

Wealthy consumers being jostled about and distracted by everything from buskers to stray sheep must have seemed easy prey. Periodicals and guidebooks, memoirs and novels—all make an explicit association between the Pont Neuf and theft, especially clothing theft. The stories make it clear that, if you walked onto the Pont Neuf wearing your finest garments, you were in real danger of losing them before you reached the other side.

Despite all this, it’s clear that when Parisians got an expensive new outfit, they couldn’t resist showing it off by going for a stroll just where they knew it would be seen by the biggest crowd: on “the big stage of the Pont Neuf.” The Pont Neuf was expressly designed to encourage pedestrians to linger over the vista laid out before them. The bridge’s “viewing shelves” or “balconies” may have been the most remarkable of its innovations—they made Parisians aware that their city was now a sight worthy of visual appreciation.

Small wonder that the Pont Neuf became the first major modern tourist destination and that it inspired a true souvenir industry. The wealthiest travelers returned home with a painting of the New Bridge to hang in their salon or picture gallery, views that could remind them of the qualities of the Parisian experience that were to be found nowhere else. And for less prosperous visitors who wanted a reminder of Paris there was the equivalent of a souvenir trinket—fans that depicted daily life on Paris’ New Bridge.

[idolizerp]

LOADING INFORMATION ON POIZN’S MAIN RAP, VOCAL JEON DOYOON...

IDOL DETAILS

STAGENAME: Duke CURRENT AGE: 29 DEBUT AGE: 20 TRAINEE SINCE AGE: 15 COMPANY: 99 ETC: This member has a major hand in producing and lyric writing for the group.

IDOL IMAGE

as if by fate, 99 knew exactly what they wanted doyoon to be ever since they laid their eyes on him. from a visual standpoint, doyoon seemed to have been born just so he could be a part of POIZN with his sharp eyes, intimidating glare, and baritone voice. 99 sets him out to be a different type of “bad boy” – not exactly a wild, partying one, but as the classic “hollywood” bad boy ( most likely due to his american upbringing. ) while he initially played the role of a rambunctious young blood, doyoon gradually brings it down and became reserved the more he played his role into what 99 wanted him to be.

he is neither loud nor boisterous – loudness is not what doyoon excels at. he is the old school, silent but strong candidate, a quiet flame in the background that flickers steadily, refusing to burn out. silent, resilient and intense — these are what 99 wanted to convey, and doyoon became the perfect representative of that image.

now doyoon, left alone and away from 99’s packaging, is unrecognizable. his POIZN persona is on one spectrum, and doyoon stands on the exact opposite end of that spectrum. POIZN’s doyoon is boiling lava, erupting on stage with power and a conviction to flip k-pop conventions. jeon doyoon the person, on the other hand, is one of the many kindling on the hearth warming your home – gentle, patient, and meek. so the people have always been surprised to hear about the great divide between the mask and the person that lies beneath it, because doyoon is a breath of fresh air; one of the few POIZN boys who had lived his idol life scandal-free due to his hard work behind the scenes, locked up behind studio doors working day and night with producers and executives to help POIZN rise in the ranks.

it played out in their favor, but who’s to say that this surprising revelation wasn’t media play itself?

IDOL HISTORY

life is full of choices and doyoon seems to be picking the wrong ones.

v.

the first choice that changed his life wasn’t necessary his choice to make, nor was he given a voice in the matter. he was only five, after all, and the opinions of a five year-old do not really matter, right? he is given a new life in a new city that belonged to a new country with a new name and a new sibling.

james-dean jeon is his new name – not just ‘james’ and not ‘dean.’ it’s a mouthful, especially because he’s only five and can barely speak the language.

“i promise you’ll have a better life here, doyoon. you can make your dreams come true here!”

that’s what his parents tell him the night before he starts his first day of american kindergarten. but the thing is: he’s had a great life back in korea. he even had a pet rabbit named pony. oh how he missed pony. but he doesn’t question them further. he smiles and nods to let his parents go to bed because, like him, they too have a busy day of work the next day.

vii.

it’s not that he doesn’t like going to church – it’s just that he doesn’t like waking up at 7 o’clock on sundays to go to a church about 40 minutes away from his home when there are plenty of churches in the neighborhood.

“you know grandpa and grandma aren’t very good at english, and you have to immerse yourself in your culture.”

and his parents are right…to a certain degree.

he should be more understanding of his grandparents needs, since he actually goes out into society – all grandpa and grandma have are each other and the rest of the koreans in their city in montana ( which just happens to be the rest of the family. ) so he shouldn’t get so frustrated when they want to be with the people they have in common.

but did doyoon have to leave korea ( and pony and his other friends ) just to immerse himself into his culture?

he doesn’t say anymore, but he does think about it on his way to church.

x.

hymns — it’s what doyoon hears throughout his home for most of his early life. it’s an expression of praise and gratitude, and it’s what fills the cabinets and the tv stand in his living room. doyoon doesn’t mind hymns — in fact, it’s what started his appreciation of music. but as he grows and ventures more into the car radio of a church hyung’s car, he realizes that this isn’t the only type of art. he realizes that he likes a different kind of sound, something his grandparents and the majority of the grown-ups in his church refer to it as ‘the devil’s music.’ but doyoon thought it was one of the best things in the world -– next to drawing stick figures and his two new sisters.

at school, he listens to what he and others know – american rappers and hip-hop artists. while at church, he was introduced to korean hip-hop. and that’s why he deliberately stays late after church — not just fill his duties as his church band’s pianist.

xii.

call him a silly child all you want, but nothing is stopping him from becoming who he wants to be.

unfortunately for his parents, america is not a place where his dream will come true.

he’s figured out a few years ago that this place isn’t as great as people claim it to be – there are countless iron walls blocking his way, and no matter how high he jumps, he can never go over it like a simple hurdle.

so he decides to be a little selfish.

he goes back to korea with his grandparents, leaving his family and friends behind.

despite his nationality and his blood all originating from korea, the country feels foreign to him – and so does the language.

there’s an unexplainable distance between his classmates and doyoon – possibly because he stumbles on his words and his commitment towards his after school music academy. but he doesn’t mind it too much — he needs to build his skills, because what was the point of coming back to korea if he wasn’t going to work hard?

xv.

apparently he’s pretty okay at singing ( all those years in the church choir must have paid off ), and he’s come so far in his rapping and dancing skills. the teachers at his academy suggest that he has the potential to become famous so he takes the suggestion and heads out to auditions.

there is only one agency that takes him in, though ( he didn’t show it on his face, but he was shocked that he passed only one out of six auditions. )

frankly, he is entirely too ignorant of what exactly an “idol” is. he thought idols were equivalent to musicians, freely making their own music and releasing them whenever they want. instead, he is forced to face against other children, forced to climb and claw at each other to reach the top. he didn’t know they had to endure years of training, years of criticism and years of rivalry to debut.

they say his singing is decent, lyrics original and well-crafted, and that he has the right tone and look to be a rapper, but his overall dancing ability is utter garbage. they tell him to either: get better or leave.

no matter how much he practices, they want more – more improvement, more soul, more competition and more blood.

it is a savage world, but it is the world that he chose to belong in.

…

does he belong in it?

xx.

doyoon works hard – anyone can see that, and he’s present.

so he finds an unlikely home in the studio, writing lyrics and experimenting with sounds, making sure his message gets through the music and past the conventional idol filter. POIZN is like family to him and they deserve nothing more than to stand out from the rest of the industry.

xxii.

his wish is granted because POIZN does stand out — just not in a way he intended. the group is riddled with scandals, when one settles down, another rises in a speed of light.

but doyoon remains cleaner than bleach, and it’s because of this reason that 99 keeps a tight hold on him. they hold him down and lock him up in the confines of the studio, repeatedly assuring him that he will remain safe and sound if he stays put. and doyoon listens, because POIZN is…well…poison.

xxv.

“doyoon never screws up.”

while flattering, it’s a heavy burden to bestow onto someone. even though he tries to be the obedient little soldier 99 wants him to be, he doesn’t think he can take it — the constant constraints 99 loops around his neck is slowly but surely catching up to him.

so he gets his first tattoo, to symbolize his rebellion.

( though it humorously works against him since getting a tattoo is a right of passage for one of POIZN’s bad boys. )

xxix.

ten years is enough time to successfully tire someone out. he is no longer a kindle, barely holding its ground. he is a piece of ash: gray, fragile and burned out.

[fivepointshq]

the world & magic.

where are we?

Good question. Five Points is located along hundreds of square miles at the foothills of a small mountain range, spanning up the coast of New England, into Canada. There is a protective barrier, warding off humans from venturing into the valley and foothills, though it is only 50 miles or so out of the valley to reach the small, cold-water, coastal towns that they inhabit. It is safe to assume that your character has interacted with humans, but it is forbidden to have a relationship with them, or bring them into the valley.

Nearby towns may be visited to get supplies, purchase goods, or monitor the outside world. The nearest ones are Hampstead, Williamstown, and Covedale.

The valley itself has a handful of small businesses, much like any town in rural America. Want to learn more? Check out the fivepoints;world tag.

how does magic work?

Magic in Five Points is tied to bloodline, which is why the covens have spent centuries hiding in plain sight. Their magic isn’t by blood alone, though: their power comes from their soul, and as such, souls are the most powerful thing in Five Points. Upon birth, each new child is warded by their elders to protect their soul, to guard against possession, and to ensure long life. The war has broken down some of those barriers, and possessions have occurred in recent history. This is an affront  to their way of life, and a critical problem.

There is an element of learning to it. While raw magic resides in every magical soul, the ability to harness and deploy it is something that must be taught. Children are enrolled in an Academy after they have taken their Initiation Rites, where they learn the basics of alchemy, charms, curses, ritual, natural magic, and spells. Each Coven offers further study on the areas in which they excel, but these secrets are tightly guarded by coven.

Using magic always comes at an equal or greater price. For smaller spells, hexes, and the like, a witch may simply feel fatigued, or darken their aura. At the opposite end of the spectrum, larger spells, heavier magic, darker rituals may require more energy than one witch alone can manage -- or even a blood sacrifice.

Magic is cast using latin, and calling upon the forces of nature.

For example, a warlock may call upon the North Wind to bring an early winter to his rival’s doorstep, or a witch may ask Hecate for a blessing, to aid and guard her work.

the academy.

There is one Academy in the valley, and all of-age warlocks and witches attend it for four days each week -- most typically after their initiation at 16. The fifth and sixth days are given to coven-specific practice. Graduation from the Academy is granted after four years of study, two years of apprenticeship to learn a trade, and the successful passing of a Trial set forth by the coven elders. 

Most witches and warlocks graduate at age 22. The war has halted this study for four years, however, which means that if your character is between 18 and 22, they have not completed their studies.

the war.

All able-bodied witches and warlocks above the age of eighteen were eligible to be drafted into the war -- and by the end, that meant nearly all of them. War was fought throughout the valley, with small camps of soldiers spreading far and wide. Soldiers were scattered in groups of 6-12, and have spent the last several years fighting in small skirmishes and large battles.

These may have been fought with spellwork, incantations, rituals, or hand-to-hand combat as the situation merited it. Some are more adept than others with daggers, though wards and hexes made gunpowder a poor choice.

occupations.

This is not a town RP and as such, there are no school soccer teams or coffee shops. Occupations are handed down by family, and treated as a learned trade. They may include:

Healers (those versed in medicinal magic) 

Farmers (those able to make plants grow and feed the valley)

Merchants (those who are booksellers and the like)

Morticians (those who look after the dead and prepare for last rites)

Artists (those who make and sell goods; different from merchants in that they create their wares) 

Potionmakers (those who deal in potions exclusively)

Teachers (those who work at the Academy)

etc! This is not a comprehensive list. If you have an idea, let us know!

[filmspun]

The invention of Paris began with a bridge.

Today, people simply flash an image of the Eiffel Tower to evoke Paris instantly. It’s the monument that offers immediate proof that you are looking at the City of Light. In the 17th century, the Eiffel Tower’s role was played by a bridge: the Pont Neuf. The New Bridge was Henri IV’s initial idea for winning over the people of his freshly conquered capital city, and it managed that daunting task with brio. For the first time, the monument that defined a city was an innovative urban work rather than a cathedral or a palace. And Parisians rich and poor immediately adopted the Pont Neuf: They saw it as the symbol of their city and the most important place in town.

In April 1598, Henri IV signed the Edict of Nantes: the Wars of Religion were officially over. A month earlier, the new king had already registered documents announcing his intention to complete the bridge. Henri III had offered no justification for the project; his successor, characteristically, laid out clear goals for it. He presented the bridge as a “convenience” for the inhabitants of Paris. He also characterized it as a necessary modernization of the city’s infrastructure—Paris’ most recent bridge, the Notre-Dame bridge, was by then badly outdated and far “too narrow,” as the king remarked, to deal with traffic over the Seine, which Henri IV described as rapidly expanding because new kinds of vehicles were now sharing the bridge with those who crossed on horseback and on foot. The new bridge would be financed in a previously untested manner: The king levied a tax on every cask of wine brought into Paris. Thus, as city historian Henri Sauval, writing in the 1660s, phrased it, “the rich and drunkards” paid for this urban work.

The construction of a new bridge over the Seine was initiated by Henri IV’s predecessor, the last king of the Valois dynasty, Henri III, who laid the first stone in May 1578. Some early projects conceived of a very different bridge, most notably, with shops and houses lining each side. In 1587, construction was just becoming visible above the water line when life in Paris was upended by religious violence. With the city in chaos, work on the bridge ceased for more than a decade.

The New Bridge became the first celebrity monument in the history of the modern city because it was so strikingly different from earlier bridges. It was built not of wood, but of stone; it was fireproof and meant to endure—it is now in fact the oldest bridge in Paris. The Pont Neuf was the first bridge to cross the Seine in a single span. It was, moreover, most unusually long—160 toises or nearly 1,000 feet—and most unusually wide—12 toises or nearly 75 feet—far wider than any known city street.

The bridge proved essential to the flow of traffic across Paris: Before, just getting to the Louvre from the Left Bank had been a famously tortuous endeavor that, for all those not wealthy enough to have a boat waiting to ferry them across, required the use of two bridges and a long walk on each side. The New Bridge also played a crucial role in the process by which the Right Bank became fully part of the city: In 1600, its only major attraction was the Louvre, whereas by the end of the century, the Right Bank showcased important residential architecture and urban works, from the Place Royale to the Champs-Élysées. In addition, whenever a major event transpired in seventeenth-century Paris, it either took place on the Pont Neuf or was first talked about on the Pont Neuf.

No prior bridge had had to deal with anything like the load the New Bridge was intended to bear—most significantly, a kind of weight that in 1600 was just becoming a serious consideration: vehicular transport. Earlier cities had only had to contend with transport that was relatively small and light: carts and wagons. In the final decades of the sixteenth century, personal carriages were just beginning to be seen in cities such as London and Paris. Nevertheless, with great foresight, each of Henri IV’s documents on the Pont Neuf adds new kinds of vehicles to the list of those to be accommodated. He was thus the first ruler to struggle with what would become a perennial concern for modern urban planning: the necessity of maintaining an infrastructure capable of handling an ever greater mass of vehicles.

The 18th-century map above depicts the statue of Henri IV positioned in the middle of the bridge, the first public statue in the history of Paris. Parisians immediately turned the novel kind of monument into the most popular meeting place in the city. They created expressions such as “let’s meet by the Bronze King,” or “I’ll wait for you beneath the Bronze Horse.”

The enthusiasm with which Parisians welcomed the bridge helps explain why it became one of those rare public works that actually shape urban life. On the New Bridge, Parisians rich and poor came out of their houses and began to enjoy themselves in public again after decades of religious violence. The Pont Neuf became the first truly communal entertainment space in the city: Since access cost nothing, it was open to all. The greatest nobles disported themselves in ways amazingly unorthodox for a setting where anyone could see them. In February 1610, the 16-year-old Duc de Vendôme (Henri IV’s illegitimate son) was seen running around on the bridge engaged in a “heated battle with snowballs.”

The sidewalks on the Pont Neuf were the first the world had seen since Roman roads and something that had never been seen in a Western city. And no one knew what to call those who used these sidewalks. In official municipal documents, the people who walked there were called gens de pied, literally “people on foot,” a military term for foot soldiers. By the 1690s, French dictionaries included a new term, piéton, a pedestrian. Authors of guidebooks, aware that their readers would have had no previous experience with the phenomenon, explained, as Claude de Varennes did in 1639, that sidewalks were “absolutely reserved for pedestrians.” Pedestrians saw themselves for the first time as kings of the river.

And on the other end of the social spectrum, it was at the base of the Pont Neuf that public bathing in the Seine became popular, giving the least fortunate Parisians the chance to cool off from the summer heat. Soon after the bridge was opened, bathers and sunbathers began to congregate just below the bridge, in full view of all those crossing the Seine.

François Colletet’s periodical Le Journal (The Daily), reports that during the long hot summer of 1716, the police were obliged to step in when nude sunbathers were spotted, “on the riverbank by the Pont Neuf, where they were lying and walking about completely naked.” An order was issued “to forbid men from staying out on the sand by the Pont Neuf in the nude.” The Pont Neuf was a great social leveler.

An image from about 1700 is the original depiction of a traffic jam: it has a double title, “The Pont Neuf” and “l’embarras de Paris.” In the course of the 17th century and particularly in its final decades, that word, embarras, which until then had meant “embarrassment” or “confusion,” acquired a new meaning: “The encounter in a street of several things that block each other’s way.” A new kind of urban “confusion” had taken shape.

No one could have predicted how many activities would soon be vying for space on the bridge. To begin with, the Pont Neuf provided one of the original illustrations of the big city’s ever-accelerating appetite for news and of the rapidity with which technologies were invented to satisfy that craving. Rumors quickly spread through the crowd, giving rise to an expression: c’est connu comme le Pont Neuf—“everybody knows that already.” For the most part, however, news spread in far more organized ways.

The Pont Neuf was also built just when the use of vehicles of all kinds to get around in Paris was about to skyrocket. And because of the New Bridge’s size and its central location, a great many conveyances used it to cross the river. In no time at all, it thus became the poster child for what was quickly perceived to be one of the modern city’s greatest ills: the traffic jam.

The existence of this informal newsroom on the bridge explains the way in which political sedition erupted in 1648, when violence returned to the streets of Paris for the first time since the 1590s. That August, civil war broke out after the arrest of a beloved member of the Parisian Parlement, Pierre Broussel. Broussel lived very near the bridge, as did the future author of one of the definitive accounts of the conflict, the Cardinal de Retz.

The first French newspaper, Jean Richer’s Mercure françois, or “French Mercury,” began publication in 1611, well after the bridge had opened. It discussed a full year’s news at a time and appeared only several years after the events it described: The initial volume, for example, included coverage of 1604. To know what was going on in their city, Parisians relied on the Pont Neuf.

Retz was thus able to provide eyewitness testimony to the chain reaction set off “within fifteen minutes” of Broussel’s arrest at his home. The proximity of the Pont Neuf guaranteed that many Parisians were immediately informed of his arrest; they quickly formed an angry horde. The Royal Guard was on the bridge even as this was happening. The soldiers beat a retreat, but with a screaming mob on their heels. In no time at all, the crowd had grown to between 30,000 and 40,000. Retz described the “sudden and violent conflagration that spread from the Pont Neuf through the entire city. Absolutely everyone took up arms.” And later, when the opposition forces obtained Broussel’s release, observers noted “the cries of joy” that erupted from “the middle of the Pont Neuf.”

Engraved images of crucial people and events in the news were posted on the bridge. They were also available for sale in the shops that many printers set up either on or near the bridge. The same technique was used for printed news. Placards and posters of varying sizes were displayed prominently on walls throughout Paris, but nowhere more so than on the Pont Neuf. Contemporary accounts describe people reading aloud the posted news for those unable to read.

Until the first professional theaters opened their doors in the 1630s, the Pont Neuf was the center of the Parisian theatrical scene. Open-air performances contributed to the traffic gridlock, though not nearly so much as another kind of urban spectacle that also drew crowds to the bridge: shopping. As soon as the New Bridge was completed, a street market began. You could find trinkets, fashion accessories, and the most fetching bouquets in the city. Booksellers were the first to set up shop; there were soon at least 50 bookshops on the bridge.

Wealthy consumers being jostled about and distracted by everything from buskers to stray sheep must have seemed easy prey. Periodicals and guidebooks, memoirs and novels—all make an explicit association between the Pont Neuf and theft, especially clothing theft. The stories make it clear that, if you walked onto the Pont Neuf wearing your finest garments, you were in real danger of losing them before you reached the other side.

Despite all this, it’s clear that when Parisians got an expensive new outfit, they couldn’t resist showing it off by going for a stroll just where they knew it would be seen by the biggest crowd: on “the big stage of the Pont Neuf.” The Pont Neuf was expressly designed to encourage pedestrians to linger over the vista laid out before them. The bridge’s “viewing shelves” or “balconies” may have been the most remarkable of its innovations—they made Parisians aware that their city was now a sight worthy of visual appreciation.

Small wonder that the Pont Neuf became the first major modern tourist destination and that it inspired a true souvenir industry. The wealthiest travelers returned home with a painting of the New Bridge to hang in their salon or picture gallery, views that could remind them of the qualities of the Parisian experience that were to be found nowhere else. And for less prosperous visitors who wanted a reminder of Paris there was the equivalent of a souvenir trinket—fans that depicted daily life on Paris’ New Bridge.