Navigating the Journey of Life Transitions

  Betsy recently interviewed Dennis J.Volpe, a retired US Navy Commander and United States Naval Academy graduate with a Master of Science in Leadership Development from the Naval Postgraduate School, and a Columbia University-certified Executive Coach. Dennis, who works as a Principal Consultant and Executive Coach at the Leadership Research Institute, is also the author of the internationally…

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Assassin's Creed fic 👀 I am always a sucker for (good) Desmond Miles fic, hell yeah, would 100% read those if you posted them.

👀 👉👈 you're my new favourite, anon. this isn't close to being done but i'm very fond of it so here's a lil preview~ inspired by esama's study of flight, but with a twist! (gen, time travel/reincarnation, found family, william miles' a+ parenting, accidental subterfuge, desmond goes by miles mostly)

  Inhaling a careful breath, Ezio pauses half a flight from their destination and Leonardo halts on the step above him, frown deepening in concern. “Ezio?” he prompts, when he still doesn’t say anything.

  Ezio sighs. “We have thirteen recruits now,” he explains, turning to lean his back against the staircase wall; the cool temperature of the stone actually calms him somewhat and allows him to go on, “He’s been with us a few months, now.”

  Tilting his head curiously, Leonardo bends closer to him. “I thought you had stopped recruiting for the time being.”

  “I had.” Ezio rubs over his face quickly, such discomfort usually unsafe to display so openly — then again, Leonardo is hardly his enemy. “One of my discepoli, Adele, noticed him first.”

  “ ‘Noticed him’?”

  “... In my defense, I was away on a long assignment.”

  Leonardo just looks bewildered, an expression that’s usually quite amusing to see on the man, but Ezio can only cough awkwardly.

  “He, ah, was here a week before anyone thought to question him.”

  His old friend blinks slowly at him, Ezio can almost see the calculations happening in his mind, before his whole countenance brightens enough to make Ezio wince. 

  “You mean he infiltrated the Brotherhood? And nobody noticed?” he asks gleefully. “Oh, Ezio.”

  Refusing to flush in embarrassment, Ezio crosses his arms with a humph. “As I said, I wasn’t in the hideout at the time. Geniuses some of my recruits may be, but they all thought I had sent him here. Adele was the one to notice he had previous training, and asked him where he had met me.” Letting out a long breath, Ezio does smile, just a little. “The whelp didn’t even deny having snuck in, ’said that this is where he wants to be and was tired of waiting for chance to put him in my path, or I in his.”

  Leonardo laughs brightly, moving to rest against the wall across from Ezio. “And Machiavelli didn’t kill him immediately?”

  “No, Valeria convinced them all to keep it quiet until I returned from my contract, the little hellions. She even used me as a meat shield when Niccolò finally found out.” Ezio loves his recruits to distraction, they’re his brothers and sisters and siblings and he would gladly die for any one of them. He would also like to never face down Machiavelli’s sword and rarely-used hidden blade ever again. Once was already in excess.

  “And the recruit?”

  “Miles defended himself, of course. At least long enough for Niccolò to become intrigued by his skill.” He’s still testing the theory, but Ezio is fairly certain even the rank of millite is too low for him, though why Miles would be hiding his prowess is a concern all on its own. 

  Leonardo has known Ezio far too long, and far too well to not guess at his unsaid meaning, his lips tugging back into a thoughtful frown. “You think he was trained by another Assassin?”

  “I’m not sure yet,” he admits with a sigh. “He certainly wasn’t trained by any of our branches.”

  “Miles, Miles Miles,” Leonardo muses to the sloped ceiling. “Unusual name. Germanic? Or French, perhaps?”

  Ezio had been considering contacting his brothers in Spain, despite being almost positive that Miles wasn’t trained by them; he hadn’t even considered the French branch. Actually, did the French branch even exist anymore? He thinks he recalls hearing of its decimation around the time of the Inquisition.

  “There’s a thought,” he agrees slowly, rubbing his jaw. “I’d have to ask la Volpe or another older member about their fighting styles, I only ever crossed blades with Helene, and she hadn’t been an Assassin in many years by then.”

  “Ah, Helene... Dufranc, was it? Yes, yes, the lovely rogue from Barcelona. ‘Mon petit Assassin’, if I recall correctly?” 

  Glowering, Ezio kicks his friend’s foot at the reminder of the nickname he only escaped upon return to Italy. Some of his Spanish brothers still tease him about it in their letters. “I regret ever telling you about that,” he grumbles, much to Leonardo’s amusement. 

  Though, he quickly sobers and meets Ezio’s eyes under his hood, pinning him there easily. “Why am I here, old friend?” he asks, softly, but leaving no room to wriggle out of the answer again.

  He really isn’t making this easy, is he?

  Ezio can only hold Leonardo’s gaze for a few moments more, before he has to look away. “Miles is a bastard from a Veneziana whore. He never met his father.” He needn’t look to know Leonardo gets it immediately, but Ezio still goes on, “My students aren’t nearly as subtle as they think they are, and I do not know if it would have occurred to me without their whispers.”

  Leonardo understands this immediately, too. “Ah, does he not bear significant resemblance to you, then?”

  Ezio shakes his head. “My recruits seem to think so, but I’m afraid I’ve gotten far too in my head about it and am no longer sure if what I see is simply what I want to see.”

  “Oh, Ezio,” Leonardo sighs, standing straight to reach across the narrow space between them and put a hand on his shoulder. “I would be glad to meet him, old friend. Then, after, we will sort all this out, just as we always have.”

  Despite himself, Ezio finds himself relieved by the comfort, and reaches up to squeeze Leonardo’s hand, before removing it and stepping away. “Thank you,” he murmurs, and nods to the bottom of the stairs. “Miles is usually sparring one of his brothers or sisters around now, come with me.”

  “Or siblings,” Leonardo reminds him with a soft laugh, following at his heel.

I need someone to talk to me about Pannacotta Fugo plsplspls I just rewatched some of goldenwind and his story is so so sad

It brings up a theory I had a long time ago about phf

Fugo doesn’t die but still gets hurt by the virus when he kills Volpe. Murolo mentions that a stand can CHANGE if a user’s psyche changes

Now I haven’t watched the entirety of jjba in a long time but I think its either implied or outright confirmed that stands are manifestations of the user’s personality, either the worst (or best) trait or they represent specific feelings or emotions or a specific and important point of the users life

It’s obvious that Purple Haze is a manifestation of Fugo’s rage but his rage at WHAT? Maybe the world? Maybe his parents? Maybe himself?

I think a lot of his anger is directed towards his parents but maybe a little at himself. They didn’t make HIM smart. We’re reminded that constantly that Fugo is basically a child prodigy, attending University at 13.

If you’re a highschool student then imagine how much of his LIFE was spent under academics, under pleasing his parents- under the expectation he’d do something truly great. Fugo must wish deeply that some part of him never had to bear the weight of his parents expectations.

He was thrust into University at such a young age and depending on what you’re watching or reading he ended up killing someone to defend himself (anime) or ended up killing someone when they denied him the right to visit the only person who gave him some form of solace in the world (phf) which ended up resulting in his parents throwing away their child prodigy like trash to ‘protect’ their family name

Now that is HORRIFYING. Fugo was used for his incredible intelligence and then thrown out EVEN when the court found him not guilty (yes through the result of a bribe but even if the verdict was bought it would have to mean SOMETHING right?) If you were in Fugo’s shoes you might think that this gifted form of intelligence was some kind of curse. Therefore his stand is born, a manifestation of his rage and self loathing

So what am I getting at?

Fugo spends most of PHF pondering the reason as to why Narancia left him to risk his life and protect Trish. He didn’t understand until Sheila came along and gave him the clarity that he lacked. The novel doesn’t say it outright but it implies that Narancia went because he knew Trish had been betrayed just like him, so he wanted to protect her because he know how much that hurt

This realization leads into Fugo surviving the capsule in his MOUTH while Volpe was destroyed.

This implies that Fugo’s self loathing was almost healed or eased away a little?? That in some way he was maybe able to find a way to not completely love himself but for him to realize that its OK. That the deaths of Bruno, Narancia and Abbachio were out of his control and he shouldn’t blame himself for not going with them??

The virus could be seen as a literal metaphor for self hatred/loathing/anger and Abbachio EXPLICITLY says that during pre phf, Fugo CANNOT keep it from hurting or possibly killing him?? So Fugo finally found the strength to not loathe himself and went to fight which in the end gave him so closure and peace over the deaths of his friends??

Dam,, that hit me hard

My blog may be only like 5 months old, but I managed to hit a pretty big milestone for followers anyway! Wanted to say thank you to all of you who follow me and subscribe to the cult of Katherine. Even if we don't interact or write I really do appreciate your follow and support. I adore all the random anons I get, you guys make being here so much fun and Im so glad that you chose to follow me.

While I love all of you there are a few people I would like to escpecially thank for my rpc family wouldn't be the same without them!

@baby-royalty - You were my first follow on this site, we were DRAWN to each other. It has been a pleasure and a privilege helping Lizzy develop more into her own person. As far as OC Dathrine children are concerned you will always be my one and only, I love you endlessly. Obiche tem Zvezdichke.

@multi-royalty - Dat my bes fran, she a rl bad bitch. The Caroline to my Elena. Seeing you grow and improve as a writer while you explore your wide range of characters has been so heart warming to see. You have a knack for being able to pick up just about any character youre asked to and do them proficiently, which is a skill not everyone posesses! But no matter who youre writing, you will always be my favourite Caroline. xoxo

@hybrid-royalty-main - U R A SCRUB. But despite that I have to admit I am impressed with how fully you have dedicated yourself to the RPC and become such a large part of my affilliates circle. You play all of my boys and then also my tormenter and you do them all so well. Red string Stefrine is what the world DESERVED in tvd, and I am so pleased to give you the chance to write it with me <3 muwah muwah.

@sonofmikael/@bunnyblooded - I WAITED THREE WHOLE MONTHS from the moment I joined and found your blog I waited with baited breath to see if you would EVER come back. Then I was alerted and worked my way into your notifications and then BOOM. Follow back. I was so excited, and then YOU HAD A STEFAN BLOG TOO??? I mean, mostly built for a klefan AU which i mean i guess I forgive you Stefrien supremacy but really where its AT?? Our Stelena is something special. Idk how or why, but I write my favourite Stelena stuff with you, it just flows so beautifully. NOW IF ONLY YOU WOULD DO YOUR DRAFTS- jk. I love you. But really.

@faiththesinfulslayer - GIRL????? GIRL???? When we first started interacting I did NOT expect their relationship to evolve into what it has. Faith and Katherine are just one of my fave pairings because they GET each other in a way not many other's can. Its so important to them and FOR THEM you know? I adore seeing you on my dash and even tho she will deny it to the end of time Katherine and I DO notice when youre gone and we DO miss you both. We are always waiting to see our girls active and killin it on the dash <3 know that you are very loved.

A few other mentions that make my dash amazing. I love seeing all of you pop up in my notifications and my feed. All of you are amazing writers with wonderful grasps on your characters and you all have made my experience here on this blog more amazing than I could have asked for. From banter to deep dive angst and character development, writing with you guys has made my experience amazing. I am very happy to be mutuals and write with all of you.

@tobeblamed @touchedbydestiny @ladamedemartel @lordofthestrix @deceptivemorals @witch3d @townwxtch @siiinfultemptation @jeremydied @wonkrugona @tricursed @viikingwitch @seesgood @langdhon @tormentias @demone-volpe @sindicate @hcpemikaelscn @roshale @ofwaywardsunshine @salvatoraes @klaeus

And just a quick shout out to a few more special people-

The OC hall of fame, the love and devotion you have for your characters is inspiring and I am heavily invested in them on my dash.

@unbearablyindifferent @ravenskeeper @demonstigma

Katherine ESPECIALLY adores bothering Sarah and Alice. &lt;3

Thank you all again for your love and support! If you weren't mentioned don't worry! It's nothing personal, these are just the blogs that have been my faves for a large part of my 5 or so months in this RPC. I can't wait to see what the future holds for me as a writer and on this blog, but I hope you all are a part of it <;3

For This Too, Too Solid Flesh

#3!

Oh Favorite line of narration? That's a good question.

(Sorry for the delay -- I was in DC all day!)

For serious:

Ezio looks older. Not fully - the beard, certainly, works to age him - and… 

And it means that whatever Federico had held onto, whatever had let him try to ignore the realities of his situation, is gone. Shattered, left on the metaphorical floor as he waits for Machiavelli to notice him and hand him his next assignment. 

For funny:

La Volpe, despite saying otherwise, stands and moves towards where she keeps a spare cup for unexpected visitors. He pours wine and puts it on the corner of her desk closest to the hiding spot before taking a piece of bread and throwing it in. 

For general:

Gilberto is not a praying man. Not truly religious, not like some of his Brothers are. Whatever it is he and God might have had when he was a child, even when he was a younger man, he has to assume the first time he spilled blood trussed that up. Every time since, and every time stealing and thieving and flouting the laws of man… Every time he has spoken the creed - nothing is true, everything permitted - had gone so far as to deny the Christian god, at the very least.

Anthony Volpe Caricature Shirt

Anthony Volpe Caricature Shirt A Anthony Volpe Caricature Shirt is Dies Solis Invicti Nati which was on 25 December and was introduced by Aurelian in 274 AD — apparently about 20 years or more after at least some Christians began celebrating Christmas on 25 December. Some deny the possibility of Christ’s birth in December, arguing that lambs couldn’t have been safely left outdoors at that time.…

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Reading List, On the Move edition.

"I don't believe people are looking for the meaning of life as much as they are looking for the experience of being alive." [Joseph Campbell]

Image: Pansies by Henri Matisse (c 1903) via @paintings_i_love

*

A silent hike along the John Muir Trail [Harmen Hoek on YouTube]

"At one point in time, say the late 2000s, the chief evidence of being a hipster was denying your status as such, it was that vital of a label. Your pro- or anti-hipster opinion constituted an entire worldview. Various trends – craft cocktails, indie rock, American Apparel, vinyl, skinny jeans — were identified with the hipster. There were three options: You were a hipster, you disliked them, or you disliked that you were one." Why did we stop saying “hipster”? [Kyle Chayka, One Thing]

The great women's art bulletin - a series that doesn't miss. [Katy Hessel, The Guardian]

"My online life is a sprawling, overwhelming mess with a price tag that increases every few years. If these archives were in my home and not in the cloud, I have to imagine that visitors would pull me aside for an intervention or refuse to come over altogether." Charlie Warzel is in cloud storage hell [The Atlantic]

"Procrastination isn’t a unique character flaw or a mysterious curse on your ability to manage time, but a way of coping with challenging emotions and negative moods induced by certain tasks — boredom, anxiety, insecurity, frustration, resentment, self-doubt and beyond." Procrastination isn't a time management problem, it's an emotion regulation problem [Charlotte Lieberman, The New York Times]

Memory is more about your future than your past [Kevin Dickinson, Big Thing]

"Overlay the years a woman is supposed to establish herself in her career and her fertility window and it’s a perfect, miserable circle. By midlife women report feeling invisible, undervalued; it is a telling cliché, that after all this, some husbands leave for a younger girl. So when is her time, exactly? For leisure, ease, liberty? There is no brand of feminism which achieved female rest. If women’s problem in the ’50s was a paralyzing malaise, now it is that they are too active, too capable, never permitted a vacation they didn’t plan." This story had my messages lit up for a whole day - there's a LOT going on here.. [Grazie Sophia Christie, The Cut]

The case against "decanting" groceries [Jaya Saxena, Eater]

What happened to the teen babysitter? [Faith Hill, The Atlantic]

“I wanted my life to resemble fan fiction.” When Lily moved in with Grace and Danny and they all had a baby. [Choire Sicha, The Cut]

"I like to think we’re starting to embrace a softer kind of strength. Maybe taking care of ourselves, whatever that looks like, can now be as celebrated as dodging death for a summit." [Beth Rodden, The New York Times]

The Mad Perfumer of Parma [Molly Young, The New York Times]

What Have Fourteen Years of Conservative Rule Done to Britain? I am so ready for this election, just the thought leaves me shaking [Sam Knight, The New Yorker]

How to be alone with your thoughts - a matter of practice! [Allie Volpe, Vox]

Big Sicilian Energy [Jo Piazza, Cosmopolitan]

Anatomy of a snack trolley - a delight from Amelia Tait [CityAM]

"We live in an age of therapy speak, in an age of seemingly every song and TikTok and book using the language of introspection and healing and self-care, because we live in an age of increased isolation, of detachment from the messiness and joy and danger of the real, physical world. A culture of excessive introspection is not a sign of collective or personal growth, but a sign of disconnection from the outside world and each other." [PE Moskowitz]

Reading the Rocks [Jenny Odell, Emergence Magazine]

McElrath v. Georgia

By Gemma Volpe-Monrean, Youngstown State University Class of 2026

October 12, 2023

The Supreme Court holds that the most fundamental ruling in the history of double jeopardy jurisprudence is that acquittals are untouchable no matter their reasoning. In other words, no judge can overturn an acquittal. Furthermore, a defendant cannot be retried on a charge that has been acquitted. This essential right has been called into question in McElrath v. Georgia. This case has left many people hungry for answers on the specifics of the double jeopardy rule. [1]

The Georgia Supreme Court overturned an acquittal on the grounds that the verdicts were inconsistent. As a result, the rulings were treated as “valueless” and were vacated. Now, McElrath is being tried again for charges that he was already acquitted of. Support has been given to McElrath as his basic rights are being violated. According to the double jeopardy rule, it is unconstitutional to try someone on the same charges after they have been acquitted. Understanding the facts of the case is crucial in explaining how it got to this point. [1]

In 2017, McElrath was found guilty by a Georgia jury of felony murder. He was also found mentally ill but not guilty of insanity. It is claimed that there was a malice murder after McElrath encountered his mother. The trial courts did not recognize the verdicts as repeat, and they were accepted. However, the Georgia Supreme Court found the verdicts were repugnant and overturned the verdicts. This meant McElrath would have to be retired. McElrath claimed that the retiral was based on double jeopardy, but his motion was denied. On his second appeal, McElrath said that to be tried again, the court needed to reverse his charges rather than vacate them. The ruling on double jeopardy was also challenged because they found him not guilty by a reason of insanity on the count of malice murder. The Georgia Supreme Court affirmed the lower court's previous ruling. [2]

The clause of double jeopardy is based on the Fifth Amendment which outlines multiple constitutional rights. This clause states that no one can be convicted of the same offense twice. Subsequently, no one can be tried for the same offense multiple times. This concept has roots in English common law. In its early forms, issues spang up as to whether two separate offenses can be considered the same offenses. Additionally, defendants used to be able to relinquish their double jeopardy rights. However, in the decision of United States v. Broce, it was ruled that the defendant could not assert a double jeopardy claim because he had waived it in the plea agreement. In the case of McElrath v. Georgia, the double jeopardy claim was not waived, making it unconstitutional. [3]

This clause's protection is important for many reasons. Firstly, it is unfair to try a defendant twice for the same crime. One reason for this is that a person’s life often becomes consumed with legal proceedings. This is financially stressful and takes a toll on a defendant’s mental health. Protecting a defendant from double jeopardy ensures that if they are acquitted, they will not have to go through the same strenuous process again. Secondly, once a label is attached to a defendant, it takes years to build up their reputation again. Being retired delays this possess even more especially after they have been acquitted. Finally, the double jeopardy clause is also beneficial to the government. Trying cases takes ample time and money away from the government. Ensuring that each case is only tried once distributes the court’s resources evenly. [4]

In the case of McElrath v. Georgia, the rule barring judges from reviewing and reversing acquittals directly impacts the jury and defendant. This rule was put in place to protect the integrity of the jurors and to safeguard defendants. The purpose of the jury is to act as a barrier between the accused and the judges. When this barrier is broken, it damages the trial role assigned to the jury in the legal system. [1]

Although this case is ongoing, light has been shed on the avenues the court system has taken to avoid following the double jeopardy clause. With this being a fundamental right, people are frustrated and offer support to McElrath. As this case develops further, there is an eagerness to see the impact this case has when relating to the Fifth Amendment and the double jeopardy clause.

______________________________________________________________

[1] American Civil Liberties Union. (2023, September 19). McElrath v. Georgia. https://www.aclu.org/cases/mcelrath-v-georgia

[2] McElrath v. Georgia. Oyez. (2023). https://www.oyez.org/cases/2023/22-721

[3] Ward. (1989). Double jeopardy clause of the Fifth Amendment. U.S Department of Justice Office. https://www.ojp.gov/ncjrs/virtual-library/abstracts/double-jeopardy-clause-fifth-amendment

[4] Samuel Strom, J. D. (2023, August 25). Double jeopardy. Findlaw. https://www.findlaw.com/criminal/criminal-rights/double-jeopardy.html#:~:text=The%20protection%20against%20double%20jeopardy,save%20governments%20time%20and%20money.

Angers sporting club Saïd Chabane Gérald Baticle, Bordeaux Football Club des Girondins Gérard Lopez Vladimir Petkovic, Brest Stade brestois Denis Le Saint Michel Der Zakarian, Clermont-Ferrand Clermont Foot Ahmet Schaefer Pascal Gastien, Lens Racing Club Joseph Oughourlian Franck Haise, Lille LOSC Olivier Létang Jocelyn Gourvennec, Lorient Loïc Féry Christophe Pélissier, Lyon OL Olympique lyonnais Jean-Michel Aulas Peter Bosz, Olympique de Marseille OM Pablo Longoria Jorge Sampaoli, Metz Football Club Bernard Serin Frédéric Antonetti, Monaco AS Association sportive Monaco FC Dmitri Rybolovlev Niko Kovac, Montpellier-Herault Sport Club Laurent Nicollin Olivier Dall'Oglio, Nantes Football Club Waldemar Kita Antoine Kombouare, Nice OGC Jean-Pierre Rivère Christophe Galtier, Paris PSG Nasser Al-Khelaifi Mauricio Pochettino Kylian Mbappé Lionel Messi Neymar da Silva, Reims Stade de Reims Jean-Pierre Caillot Oscar Garcia, Rennes Stade rennais Football Club Nicolas Holveck Bruno Genesio, Saint-Étienne ASSE Association sportive Roland Romeyer Bernard Caïazzo Claude Puel, Strasbourg Racing Club de Strasbourd Alsace Marc Keller Julien Stephan, Troyes Simon Cliff Laurent Battles Ajaccio AC Athletic Club Ajaccien Christian Lecat Olivier Pantaloni, Amiens Sporting Club Football bernard Joannin Philippe Hinschberger, Auxerre James Zhou Jean-Marc Furlan, Bastia SC Sporting Club Claude Ferrandi Mathieu Chabert, Caen Stade Malherbe Olivier Pickeu Stéphane Moulin, Dunkerque Union Sportive du Littoral Jean-Pierre Scouarnec Romain Revelli, Dijon Football Côte-d'Or Olivier Delcourt David Linares, Grenoble Foot 38 Stéphane Rosnoblet Maurizio Jacobacci, Guingamp En Avant Fred Legrand Stéphane Dumont, Le Havre Athletic Club Football Vincent Volpe Paul Le Guen, Nancy Association Sportive Nancy-Lorraine Jacques Rousselot Daniel Stendel, Nîmes Olympique Rani Assaf Pascal Plancque, Niort Chamois Niortais Football Club Guy Cotret Sébastien Desabre, Paris FC Pierre Ferracci Thierry Laurey, Pau Football Club Bernard Laporte-Fray Didier Tholot, Quevilly-Rouen Union Sportive Michel Mallet Bruno Irles, Rodez Aveyron Football Club Pierre-Olivier Murat Laurent Peyrelade, Sochaux Football Club Frankie Yau Omar Daf, Toulouse Football Club Damien Comolli Philippe Montanier, Valenciennes Football Club Eddy Zdziech Olivier Guegan 24h du Mans Alice Pérésan-Roudil Amazon Avatar Barbie Batman Beyonce Black Mirror Bordeaux Boulevard Voltaire Cannes Champion League Chargé de création graphique Chat GPT Château Circuit Bugatti Coupe du Monde Damien Bridonneau Didier Deschamps Didier Raoult Disney Dua Lipa Elon Musk Emmanuel Macron Eurovision Fasting Féminicide Football Gérald Darmanin Gérard Depardieu Gilbert Bordes Guillaume Musso Incendie Inflation Instagram Jean-Luc Mélenchon Jeux olympiques Johnny Depp Jordan Bardella Justine Triet Keto diet Ligue 1 Liverpool Lizzo Margo Robbie Marine Le Pen Marseille Marvel Mediapart Monster energy Mylène Farmer Netflix Nicolas Sarkozy Novak Djokovic NUPES Olivier Dussopt Olivier Véran Olympic games Olympics Olympique de Marseille OMAD Paris Paris 2024 Paris Saint-Germain PSG Qatar Rodez Roman Polanski Retraites Russia Russie Sandrine Rousseau Sécheresse Star Wars Succession Taylor Swift The Office Tik Tok Ukraine Union Unionizing Virginie Grimaldi Woke Wokiste

The Avatar: The Last Airbender Standard Problem

In recent years, I've noticed a trend when a promising looking cartoon makes its' debut and begins to gain a fanbase, a number of these fans will start comparing said series to Avatar either becaus they were fans of the original series or have only heard about it but choose to hold their favorite piece of media to that kidn of level, even if the show has yet to realize is' full potential and as noted by this article on TV Tropes, they are usually a combination of the Undesired Champion and the Willfully Blind types of fans plus this kind of mindsets are just fucking terrifying. But, why is this a thing? Come with me as I explore the depths of fandom hell and desiccate aspects of the history of western animation.

Before ATLA debuted, most shows for children in the 2000's were purely episodic comedic adventure types. Avatar was the first modern story focused animated series to tackle themes like genocide, parental abuse, moral quandaries as and racism while it aired on a childrens' animation network. While many know that Bryke created the concept of the series, these same people aren't aware that Aaron Ehasz and Giancarlo Volpe were the driving forces behind the show's emotional/memorable moments and attention to continuity. Withou these two, Bryke pretty much floundered on Legend of Korra (originally set for a single season with the rest apparently written by the seat of their pants partily due to Nickelodeon's deadlines) where Ehasz and Volpe would eventually collaborate on The Dragon Prince which is very well written and has great characterization. Now that Bryke has established their own animation studio within Nickelodeon but witout having hired others who are experienced in handling continuity and proper character development currently, I'm honestly not sure they will be able to reach the heights of the show that made them household names

Avatar's legacy has rippled through an entire generation of viewers and the references in other series can't be denied. But with certain cartoons, those former viewers have sought to create something to emulate the success of Avatar. Case in point being Star vs., Steven Universe and the She-Ra reboot. These shows have tried to tackle racism, moral quandaries plus the pacifist protagonist and abuse, respectively. And yet the apparently first time creators tried to address these subjects in shows directed at younger kids than the age group that entered Avatar in the first place (12-15 year-olds) and weren't aware that these children who watch their shows won't fully understand these concepts until they're older. In their attempts to 'dive deep' in a narrative based show based on their experience watching Avatar, they made some pretty bad story telling mistakes (especially in the case of D*r*n N*f^y). Steven Universe had the protagonist go in without any real plan nor strategy and forgive the people who tried to genocide his own planet not to mention having done so to an untold number of celestial bodies 'just because they're family' not to mention that he gets away with murdering someone in a mental break later on along with a number of other individuals in the series suffering no consequences for their potentially life threatening actions (L*p*s, P*a*l), the She-Ra reboot entirely diregarded the main character's personal growth and development and the story that was built up over 4 seasons just to have said main character end up with someone who put her through emotional and physical abuse since they were children and whose many crimes over the course of the series were never even mentioned at all nor does she serve any form of prison time for it going by the creator's many post-series sketches during the 5th and final season and Star vs. is the worst offender of the lot; taking these two endings, combining them and making things infinitely worse. Overall, these 3 cartoons tried what Avatar did but their creators didn't fully think of the implications that their handling of difficult topics would impact those who watched their creations in the future nor did they realize and understand that full consequences must follow drastic actions taken by their characters and said characters have to face them properly to overcome obstacles in their narratives along with outright acknowledgment that they've made mistakes and are genuinely willing to own up to them. There's also the problem of non-existant world building with both the She-Ra reboot and Steven Universe where the effect of the antagonistic forces on the world at large not to mention various cultures are never even touched upon because the PoV never goes beyond the series protagonist, only scant scraps are present for the fans to wildly speculate on. While Star vs. had a degree of world-building, it was never properly utilized during the entirety of the series run. Shows like The Dragon Prince, Amphibia, The Owl House and Final Space chose to opt for a slow world building approach that make the relevations presented in these shows all the more interesting and catches the audience's attention.

Oldr cartoons that made good use of their runtime to actually care about difficult subject matter to find in-story methods of slowly overcoming them got swept away in the hype that these other animated shows generated and newer series that followed in the wake of these shows tend to have the toxic Undesired Champion and Willfully Blind types of stans migrating to them if there's even a smidgen of similarity between characters, setting and narrative. A number of these recent shows in question, however utilize careful narrative planning in advance long before airing to create distinct stories to use their potential to its fullest. They should never be forced to live up to the standard of their predecessors. Instead they should be appreciated for how well they can handle their subject matter and for doing their own thing that sets them apart from these other poorly written shows. Though, the state of The Owl House fandom is genuinely alarming with the fact that they're comparing a perfectly healthy and trusing not-yet-canon pairing to a toxic and abusive romance from another series (the She-Ra reboot, ugh) just based on it being rivals-to-lovers in addition to orbiting in the same region as the Undesired Champion types, especially on Twitter. I know that TOH has potential to go places but let's see how that goes.

In conclusion, if any one holds up a new show up to the level of Avatar without doing research on the porfolio of the person behind the project, it may be not worth your time. While Avatar may have paved the way for the rise of story cartoons, it doesn't mean that the new shows shoud try to be like ATLA in scope and narrative. It all comes down to the if and how a showrunner handles difficult topics in their work as well as narrative cohesion and the legacy that's left when the series ends. Creating something that will have real impact on those who discover what you are putting your time into is tough and tricky, but as long as you exercise your imagination well to make your concept innovative as well as original, plan and execute story beats, world building and character growth carefully, you can make that dream come true!

I see a lot of people comment that they don’t like how Mista is written in Purple Haze Feedback. But like I personally think that it’s a good representation of how he had to deal with his grief loosing the rest of the gang and his own trauma.

Fugo kinda had the privledge of not having to acknowledge Bruno, Abbacchio, and Narancia’s death until he was approached by Passione and given the mission to take down Volpe, and the whole book we see his journey on him coming to terms with his grief.

But Mista didn’t get that denial. He witnessed it happen and immediately went with Giorno to continue taking over Passione. Compared to Fugo, who had time to deny it and then process hid grief, he had no choice but to acknowledge it and then process his feelings before continuing on. He difference in maturity we see is him forcing himself to grow up in order to take on his new position in Passione with Giorno (I have like a whole separate thing about him feeling the need to take on Bruno’s role as parental figure to Giorno trish and the others but I’ll save that rant for later). The coldness he shows to Fugo I feel is not just out of being hesitant to trust him since he left them before, but because he’s envious of Fugo having the chance to deny and put off grieving for his family, while he had to process it so quickly in order to continue.

♥ for Alonzo?

♥ - family headcanon

Specifically, in regards to where he came from/birth parent headcanon.

(TW for animal death - please do not read any further if that will make you uncomfortable)

(This will be for Golden!Alonzo, Broadway verse, if that’s cool~)

Alonzo’s birth mother was a cat named Donatella, brought overseas by her humans on a ship carrying Italian immigrants to Ellis Island (they wanted to leave the cat back in Italy, but their youngest daughter refused to be parted with her - she snuck her in the trunk which was a big no-no - they could have easily been denied a trip or entry for that). It didn’t really matter in the end, since they were caught when they arrived and the cat was placed in a separate quarantine centre (as was standard at the time - sometimes birds were allowed through without this) and they never saw her again.

Donatella hung around this centre for months, confused and mostly alone (there were plenty of other animals in the centre - but not all of them spoke the same languages or understood one another - and some of them were just mean).

One day she gathered the courage and knowhow to escape - becoming one of the thousands of other stray animals in New York at the time. She wandered around until she found a place where more people (and cats) spoke in a way she understood a little better, taking up in a primarily Sicillian immigrant neighbourhood. 

She was unofficially taken in by a shop owner with a mice problem and his wife and children, who nicknamed her “Volpe” (Italian for “fox” since she was orange and brown in colour). She mostly hung around outside, even though they would let her come in and out if she wanted, without a collar, and was only really their cat in name alone (though she did like their oldest son who would save the good fish parts for her).

Donatella was impregnated by another stray cat in the neighbourhood. A couple months later, she gave birth to four kittens (Alonzo and three others), and they were promptly abandoned in a sack on the side of the street. 

The family she was with were not happy at the news, and tried in vain to pawn the kittens off to someone else (they were not interested in running a cat house) - but no one wanted them. The two sons named the kittens in hope that maybe they could keep them. The name “Alonzo” drifted in and out of his head for many years as a result, a distant foggy kitten memory.

The boys’ father’s original plan was to drown them in a bucket, thinking it was better for them to meet their end that way. The boys begged him not to - and to just leave them in hopes that maybe there was a chance someone would find them and take them. Figuring they were dead either way, he obeyed and left them under a bridge on the end of their neighbourhood, the sack untied so they could slip out. Donatella was relatively unaffected by this decision, viewing the pregnancy a mistake to begin with. She never really bonded with any of them.  Alonzo never saw her or the family again and has no memory of them (aside from soft blurred shapes).

Out of the four kittens, only Alonzo survived. How? Dumb luck and determination. 

I guess it’s a good time as any to talk about Walter’s past relationships ‘cause to quote...whoever coined this phrase, (I wanna say John Mulaney), there’s a lot to unpack here. Despite being older than Zeke, Walter hasn’t been around nearly as much as him, but he’s been around and has quite a few stories to tell (some of them even true) sooo...I don’t know how to close out this introduction so I’m gonna let this guy do it for me:

John Mulaney, folks! Let’s give him a big hand!

A n y w a y...

Picture it: Las Vegas, 1932. A much younger (and less jaded) Walter had a grand total of one animated appearance so far, a crowd scene in one of those Bosko and Honey pictures and he was keen to put his name out there. After hopping a bus from Burbank to Vegas, Walt was trying his hand at stand-up when he found himself sharing the stage with--oh, I’m sorry, I've just been informed by Walter's legal representative that I’m not at liberty to tell that story. Or call him Walt. Insert tired as heck Disney joke here, but yeah...let’s fast-forward a bit, shall we? 

Much of the thirties was a hectic experience for Walter, having gone from a random extra to the main antagonist of the Slappy the Slaphappy Squirrel series. I’ve just been informed that that’s one and only time I can speak that name so there it is. (Don’t worry, one of these days, I’ll write a deeper thing about their relationship ‘cause that’s a novel on its own.) He didn’t really have time for romance, let alone a serious relationship or at least that’s what he told the press to get them to go away. Sometimes he was a wingman for Zeke and Marie, other times he was sandwiched between them, and Zeke asked him to be the best man when they tied the knot. Unfortunately for him, Marie chose a certain squirrel to be the maid of honor. They may or may not have danced together. His memory’s a bit fuzzy on that one.

Whenever Walter was questioned about his relationship with Slap--his costar and if there was anything going on between them, his answer was to throw a bomb at them. If he was in a good mood, he might’ve made a snarky comment about it, but most of the time, he reached for the bomb. Even if he did have those feelings--and he didn’t, don’t look at him like that--it would’ve seriously hurt their careers. After a producer caught him sneaking out of his costar’s dressing room (he was just there to drop off a bomb, honestly), he was yanked into his office and immediately reprimanded. 

He was given a long speech about professionalism and protecting the brand or something to that extent. He spent more time shielding his face from the man’s spit-filled rant than listening to him. At any rate, Walter denied having anything to do with his costar, other than what the script called for and what the audience expected from him. If they wanted slapstick, he’d give them slapstick, but as her fame quickly eclipsed his and he spent more time in traction than in the spotlight, he began to grow bitter. Not as much as in his later years, but still... 

With the arrival of the war, Walter joined the air force with Zeke and had even less interest in finding The One, though he did take up the sax. They both played for the company and later, after the war was over, the Toontown Philharmonic. After Zeke complained that the latter was too square, they took to the Ink and Paint Club and played backup for various stars, including the one and only Red Hot Riding Hood. 

To say Walter had hearts in his eyes was putting it lightly. He and Red struck up a strange, but genuine friendship with a lot of mallets and banter involved and slowly, but surely, it lead to something more. He loved her sense of humor and how she didn’t take any shtick from anyone and the way she just lit up the room. As cheesy as it sounds, those were some of the best days of his life. 

For a while, Walter even considered popping the question, but as the Tex Avery era was coming to a close and Red was longing to see the world, she gently broke it off with him in ‘55. Walter wanted to go with her, but she insisted he stay in Burbank. He still had a future in cartoons and maybe she would make a comeback someday, but in the meantime, she had to see what life was like beyond the showbiz scene. After giving him a smooch, she bid him goodbye, dropping him a postcard a month later. It took Walter some time to come to terms with it and even now, he still wonders what might have been. They still kept in touch over the years, though and he’s happy to call her a friend. <3

The sixties brought on a period of uncertainty. Theatrical shorts were no longer a big draw and Walter had taken to doing stage work and bit parts in B-movies and the occasional commercial, just to keep himself busy and pay the bills. It seemed like everyone he knew was either hitched or getting hitched and he felt like he was missing out. 

Enter Wilhelmina Wolf, a studio teacher whom he met through Sid. She was a nice enough gal, a math whiz, and knew her way around a good joke. After six months of going steady, they got hitched and the following year, Wilhelmina gave birth to three beautiful pups. The early days of their marriage weren’t bad and he loved being a father, but after a time, he and Wilhelmina had almost nothing to say to each other, save when they were arguing. After a while, they called it quits and received joint custody of their daughters. From then on, they stayed with their father every other month and he doted on them to make up for the drama.

From the end of the sixties and throughout the seventies, Walter didn’t play the field too much. He continued to do stage work and starred in a rather cheesy and short-lived superhero series with his oldest costar. He was still adamant that there was nothing between them, despite feeling a weird and distinct pain every time he saw her with that white-haired schmuck from Jonny Quest. Maybe it was indigestion. Yeah, it was most likely that.

By the time the eighties rolled around, Walter was starting to age (and so was his routine) and though he wouldn’t admit it, he was lonely. His daughters were growing up and his career was in limbo and he was yearning for something (or somebody) to make him feel young again.

At Zeke’s urging, he went out with a fox named Vanessa Volpe, an aspiring actress and model who was twenty-six. She was gorgeous and she was quick to sink her claws into him or rather, his wallet. She had him on a string for about a year, all it took was a cute expression and a purred request, and Walter would give her the moon. Half his pals were green with envy and the other half were green with disgust, but not as much as his kids. His youngest daughter refused to speak to him and wouldn’t participate in the wedding. His costar showed up and cracked plenty of hard-hitting jokes about the happy couple. Three months later, Walter came home to find Vanessa messing around with their next-door neighbor (who also happened to be an up and coming director) and, well, that was the end of that. 

Walter’s love life was pretty uneventful throughout the nineties and well into the new millennium. Considering he was significantly older and bitter and deeply wrapped in his denial, the idea of getting into a relationship didn’t appeal too much to him. However, out of sheer spite towards his costar and having nothing better to do that night, he went on approximately one date with Candie Chipmunk and it was excruciating. Halfway through it, he ran screaming out the door. 

So that’s where Walter’s at as of today. As for the future, who knows??

WHAT SOFT ROMANCE CLICHE ARE YOU?

love at first sight

let's be real, only children believe in "love at first sight." but you're a hopeless romantic probably sitting around in coffee shops waiting to meet "the one." and there is absolutely nothing wrong with that. infatuation at first sight is more accurate. you are the moment when two people lock eyes, and the whole world stills. nothing is there but you and them. and there is suddenly a strong sense of longing. you love love, don't deny it. flowers, chocolates, the whole nine yards. because of this you are loved by many. hopefully you know it too: you are loved.

Tagged by: @demone-volpe

Tagging: @sonofmikael @townwxtch @retconned-royalty @faiththesinfulslayer @killbrid @multi-royalty (Prue - SURPRISE) @touchedbydestiny (Nadia or Amara) @ofwaywardsunshine @astrid-summer-child @demonstigma @holmestheheart

Josiah Trelawny x F.Reader: You deserve better - Part 2

Good day to all of you wonderful people 🌹💗 Here comes the new chapter of “You deserve better” I would like to thank everyone for your feedback and likes. Thank you very much dear ones 😄💗

Please excuse my mistakes. English isn´t my native language

Warning: Violent and abusive husband

Part 1 / Part 3

(¯`v´¯)                                                      (¯`v´¯) `*.¸.*´                                                        `*.¸.*´ ¸.•´¸.•*¨) ¸.•*¨) (`’·.¸(`’·.¸  ¸.·’´) ¸.·’´)  (¨*•.¸ (¨*•.¸`•.¸ (¸.•´ (¸.•´ .•´ ¸¸.•¨¯`•               •`¯¨• ¸¸ `•. `•.¸) `•.¸) `*.¸.*´                                                       `*.¸.*´

You deserve better - Part 2

There was an oppressive silence while you sat across from your husband at the dining table. You had no appetite because his presence made your stomach ache. You tried not to let it show how much you couldn’t stand this man. Why did you just marry this man? Why?! You thought Henry would be a good husband, but he was far from that. But his charm and his friendly words had blinded you - and now you had to pay for your naivety. Your lack of interest in his activities didn’t seem to bother Henry. In his opinion, you had to stay out of his business. There were things you just shouldn’t know and you didn’t want to know…

While Henry was cutting the meat with his knife and led the little piece to his mouth with his fork, he looked at you and he saw that you hadn’t even touched your food. “What’s wrong with you? Not hungry?” “No”, you said shortly, giving him a quick glance before you grab your glass of water and take a sip. You could hardly stand to be in the same room with this man. Your thoughts were only on your encounter with Josiah. You wanted to see this man again, but you also knew you shouldn’t. Henry was your husband… But this marriage was so useless, so unloving… so much of hate and arguments. Should you endure this all your life? God, why couldn’t you think of anything else than Josiah? His kind smile, his beautiful eyes, his friendly voice… “You don’t seem to be pleased that I’m with you again!” Henry wiped his mouth with a napkin and then reached for his glass, which was filled with red wine. Your eyes followed every single movement and you looked in disgust at how he drank the red liquid all at once. You lowered your eyes when he put the glass back down and his gaze met you. You felt so uncomfortable and you hate having to face the truth: you’d have to live with him and his habits for the rest of your life. Drunkenness was one of them and when he was drunk he was just cruel. You could hear Henry rising from his seat and he slowly came to you, stood right next to you and you looked up at him questioningly. When he reached out for your face you startled a little, but when his hand touched your cheek tenderly you knew that he would not hurt you. Not yet… “I missed you, darling. Why are you so cold to me?” “I’m not feeling very well today, Herny,” you said softly and you turned your face away as he leaned down to kiss you. Henry snorted angrily because it was not the first time that you rejected him and he didn’t like it at all. “Stubborn bitch!” He suddenly shouted at you and you startled, closed your eyes and tried to stay calm. Alcohol was already working. He had already been drinking on the way to Saint-Denis. You smelled that when he got home. “Look at me when I’m talking to you!” You got up from your seat. You wanted to leave this room and not have to listen to what a boring and cold wife you were. “Where are you going?!” “I won’t listen to your insults!” But Henry didn’t just let you go. He hurried after you and grabbed your arm. “Disrespectful woman!” You looked into his eyes with fear as he turned you towards him and glared at you. Your body tensed and you were afraid. This man always found a way to hurt you and blame you for it. “You will have to listen to what I have to say! And I want you to behave like a real wife! ” “First act like a real gentleman!” You pull yourself out of his grip and flee from him. Fortunately, he left you alone this evening, but you had to admit that Henry’s behavior had scared you…

Clemens point, two days later

“Morning, dear boy!” “Trelawny” Of course, Arthur didn’t miss the fact that Josiah was in a good mood and in the last few days he had been walking around the camp with a big grin on his face. No one had missed that and even Mary Beth had tried to find out from Josiah what made him so happy. But Josiah didn’t seem to want to share his secret with anyone. Arthur alone had a little idea of ​​what Josiah had been thinking about for the past few days. It surely had something to do with you. Josiah filled his cup with hot coffee and Arthur did the same. As Arthur filled his cup, he looked at Josiah and smiled. “You are in a good mood, Josiah.” “I always am, dear boy!” Arthur chuckled softly and he put the hot pot back on the ground before taking a sip of the strong coffee. Josiah looked at Arthur, who raised his eyebrow as he drank from his cup and looked at Josiah. Josiah was about to respond but then he had to laugh quietly himself. The two men seemed to understand each other without words, and they drank their coffee together this morning. During lunchtime, Dutch called some of his men together. Dutch had a special job for some of his men which were a bit more cultivated. These included Josiah and Hosea. Dutch had been in Saint-Denis for the past few days and had heard some interesting conversations. And now he wanted to sneak between the rich society. It would certainly not be a mistake to win the trust of powerful men. But that was not the main reason why Dutch wanted to go to Saint-Denis with his men. “Gentleman, the mayor is going to have a big party in his humble estate. And illegal competitions are supposed to take place there.” “Mayor? And how are we supposed to get to his little party?” Dutch looked at Arthur with an amused grin when he asked. Then Dutch turned to Josiah. “Well, exactly. How do we get to this party? Josiah will help us!” Dutch put his hand on the magician’s shoulder and he looked him straight in the eye, smiling with satisfaction, knowing that Josiah would not disappoint him. He knew Josiah could get in anywhere. “Josiah, you are the best man for this kind of thing. Make sure you bring us gentlemen to this party!” Josiah understood and it would be easy work for him. He nodded to Dutch. “Of course, Dutch. Nothing easier than that!” Dutch discussed the plan extensively with his men. They still had a little time until this party would take place and Dutch used it to his advantage.

Josiah got to work the next morning. He left the camp dressed in fine clothes and made his way to Saint-Denis. He came up with a strategy and thought about the easiest way to get valuable information. The magician already had a few ideas about it. Making contacts and new friendships were his strengths. Josiah knew how to adapt to any situation. He was very good at fooling people with his charm. What many didn’t know about Josiah was that he was very good at reading a person’s body language. His years of work had helped him to recognize in which situation he had to behave correctly. He could see very well if the person he was talking to was lying or nervous. Sometimes small gestures were enough to recognize this. Once in Saint-Denis, Josiah led his horse in front of the saloon. There he would surely be able to collect some useful information and talking to some gentlemen. He entered the saloon and earned attention from many ladies, but Josiah wasn´t interested. As much as it flattered him, there was only you. You were so much more desirable and beautiful than these women. And this wasn’t just about physical desire - Josiah wanted to get to know you. He wanted to research the secret of this flower and give himself entirely to you. Josiah first sat down at the bar and ordered a drink. He tried his luck and overheard one or the other conversation…

(¸.•´ (¸.•´ .•´(¸.•´ (¸.•´ .•´

“I want you to clear this mess in the kitchen before I go!” Henry was straightening his tie in front of the mirror while you brought him his jacket. You said nothing and you handed him his jacket. Henry had rioted in the kitchen in an outbreak of rage. The breakfast that you had prepared with a lot of effort was no longer edible, as it was spread over the entire kitchen floor. Henry looked at you through the mirror and he narrowed his eyes when you didn’t answer. In his opinion, you became more and more rude against him and he didn’t like that at all. Maybe it should be time to meet you in different manners. “Do you understand me, Y/N?!” “Yes…” You swallow hard and looked down, trying to hide your fear of him. “Next time you will prepare something decent! Then it won´t happen again in the future!” Tears burned your pretty eyes and you tried to calm down. You just hoped Henry wouldn’t do more to you that day. He had shouted at you in the kitchen and scolded you. And why? Because he thought your food wasn’t even good enough for pigs. “I’ll be back in a week. Until then, I hope you get in a better mood! After all, you’re my wife and I want you to do your duties too!” You knew exactly what Henry meant and that made you very nervous. You had often made excuses not to have sex with him because it was just unbearable for you. His touches, his cold and loveless kisses… his rough manner… Henry turned to you and grabbed your chin, made you look at him and he saw the tears in your eyes. But that didn’t bother him much. On the contrary - he liked it. So it was clearly obvious who was the master in this house. “Now go! Go and clean up the kitchen!” When you turn around without a word to leave the room, Henry slapped your buttocks with a firm hand and you closed your eyes in disgust. You couldn’t put into words how much you detested this man…

(¸.•´ (¸.•´ .•´(¸.•´ (¸.•´ .•´

“Gentlemen! It was a pleasure. But my lovely wife is waiting for me!” “We look forward to seeing you at the party, Mister Volpe!” “Me too, gentlemen!” Of course, Josiah hadn’t given his real name to these men. These men knew him under the name Giuseppe Volpe. He politely left the three men and left the saloon with a grin. It was a very interesting conversation. He had gotten some things rolling to get himself and his friends to the mayor’s party. Josiah’s charming manner earned him sympathy points and he was very satisfied with his work. He’d had a brandy with a few gentlemen, gathering some useful information. Of course, under the influence of a lot of alcohol, which Josiah had already willingly paid for. He had only drunk a glass of brandy but his new ‘friends’ had drunk a lot more and they had given up a lot about themselves - and had spoken about the party. Dutch would be happy to hear the good news, but he has to wait until tomorrow. Josiah made his way home. He lived in Saint-Denis and also owned a house. Small and cozy and he stayed there most of the time. He lived alone and had no family, but he enjoyed the silence that surrounded him. As he made his way to his home, he thought of you and how much he wanted to see you again. He would send you a letter and he was worried about what he would write to you, after all, he didn’t want to be intrusive or rude. Josiah might be a thief but he was still a gentleman. He entered his home and the first thing he did was take off his dark jacket and shoes. He carefully put this thing in its intended places. He loosened his tie a little as he headed for the living room. It was very quiet in the house and the only thing you could hear was the ticking of the wall clock. Josiah had a cozy interior. Very fancy and he felt most comfortable here. Life in the camp was not very comfortable and so he preferred to sleep in a real bed. Josiah sat down at his desk and picked up a sheet of paper and a pen. As crazy as it sounded, his heart was beating madly and he had to smile about it himself. He was nervous! He was truly nervous. Josiah wanted to find the right words to awaken your curiosity for him. He started writing his words on paper but Josiah had no idea that you already belonged to another man…

After Josiah wrote the letter, he waited for the ink to dry and then carefully folded the paper. Then he put it in an envelope and he smiled contentedly. He would also wait no longer and bring this letter to you immediately. However, Josiah wanted to make it very classic: secretly and without being seen. There was something romantic about it, he thought. Especially since he didn’t want to just stand at your doorstep and ask you for an appointment. So it was easier for you to refuse him without having to be uncomfortable. Of course, Josiah hoped that you would accept his invitation. He hoped to see you soon. And his letter didn’t go unnoticed for long. Because when you opened the letterbox the next day and took the mass of letters in your hands, you immediately noticed a special one. Without a sender address. Only your name was on the envelope. In a nice, clean scripture and you immediately thought that it could be the charming magician. He had already told you that he would be happy to see you again soon. You couldn’t help but grin and you hurried into your house. You carelessly threw the other letters on a side table in the hallway and only took this ominous letter with you.

You drop on the couch in the living room and open the letter with anticipation. You were very excited and you felt your stomach tingle. God, that was like a thousand butterflies flying around in your stomach - and it was a damn nice feeling. You unfold the letter and your eyes sparkle as you read the first lines…

“My dearest Miss Hazard,

please forgive my direct nature. I’m a hopeless romantic and that’s why I write you this letter.

I couldn’t wait for fate to bring our paths together again. Since I met you in Lakay I can´t think of anything else but you and our little adventure. Why don’t we continue our journey? With a walk in the park? Thursday at 10 a.m. I will wait for you if you decide to go on this date. Feel free to ignore my invitation if you don’t want to. But of course, my heart would jump in happiness to see you again.”

Sincerely

Josiah Trelawny

You couldn’t describe in words how happy this letter made you. You pressed the paper to your chest and smiled because the thought of seeing this man again soon was so beautiful. But as much as this thought pleased you, you had to quickly remember that you were a married woman and Josiah believed that you were free. But would he want to meet you if he knew you belonged to another man? You sigh heavily and stroke through your long hair. “What should I do?” You were lucky that Henry was out of town. Because if Henry had got this letter in his hands, you would have been in big trouble. The thought of it made you shiver briefly. Henry would tear you to pieces if you cheated on him but he was the one who cheated on you all the time. You knew what he was doing on these business trips. You could always smell the scent of another woman on his clothes when he came home. Red lipstick stuck to his shirt collar and that wasn´t unusual. But you had given up talking to him. You remembered how bad it was for you the first time you caught him cheating on you with prostitutes. He had come home drunk, his hair completely disheveled and red lipstick stuck to his neck and white shirt collar. Back then he had shamelessly told you what he had done to the women in the saloon and that you could never give him what these women gave him. That was over one year ago…

It had destroyed you internally at that time and you would never forget how he hit you the first time - and he had done it again and again. As soon as you said something you didn’t like in your relationship. It was a fact that this marriage was the living hell for you. No, you had no problem cheating on Henry. If you had the courage you would have run away for a long time. But the fear that one day he would find you kept you from leaving him. But you also knew that you wouldn’t survive this for long. But you also thought of Josiah. It would be so unfair to meet him and let him believe that you were an unmarried girl. You belong to a man you didn’t love and which you hate more than anything else in this world. But your desire to see Josiah again was just too strong. Yes, maybe it was selfish… maybe it wasn’t right. But maybe Josiah had come into your life to make you forget what life you had to live in Saint-Denis. Maybe Josiah would be able to make you forget your worries…

Because the WORLD is saved ❤️

volpe puts the WHOLE WORLD at stake

It was only Ezio who got the satisfyingly dramatic conclusion to the saga of Cesare Borgia’s reign of terror. While he got to enjoy tossing Cesare off the walls of a fortress, Machiavelli got paperwork, and paperwork, and then an added helping of, yes, more paperwork. For nearly two weeks after the news of Cesare’s death made it to Rome, all Machiavelli did was write, fielding not only the startled inquiries of the brotherhood and their allies but also frantically penning dispatches back to the Signoria in Florence, advising about their next course of action. Paradoxically, Cesare’s death weakened the Templar Order and strengthened the position of the Papal States, whose newest pope, one Giuliano della Rovere, could sleep easy in his bed for the first time in over a decade. That meant that his sharp mind could turn from worrying about Cesare’s knife in his back to the knives he himself could put in the backs of others. Excellent news for della Rovere. Bad news for Florence.

While Ezio took his sweet time sauntering back from Vianna, savoring his victory—and even Machiavelli would begrudgingly admit that he’d earned it—Machiavelli found himself in the unenviable position of keeping the rest of Italy on course without compromising either Florence or the brotherhood’s interests.  He was tired beyond tired of those interests butting heads, tired of straddling Rome and Florence and simultaneously trying to keep Ezio from burning the whole country down and also trying to appease the Signoria and the Ten of War, whose expectations of him were fast outstripping what was commensurate of any single man’s abilities (to say nothing of his paycheck).

“Settle our relationship to the papacy, Machia,” he muttered to himself, scathingly. “Make gestures of friendship to France, Machia. Oh, and there is the matter of the Milanese and the Romagna and Venetians all slavering over our territories, and of course Pisa is in open rebellion, again, and while you’re at it, Florence still lacks a standing army, Machia!”

Machiavelli paused midway through a letter to his senior, Marcello Adriani, tapping his pen against the paper and leaving behind a great blot of ink over a particularly inventive curse he’d been using to describe a “collaborator who prefers to remain anonymous” (read: Ezio). It was time Florence had an armed citizenry. Long past time, in fact. That lack had nearly been the death of the republic when French arms swept through Florence in 1494, back when Machiavelli had been young and without office and powerless to affect any kind of meaningful change in the city he loved. But that was no longer the case. Cesare was gone, the Borgia court dismantled, which meant Rome was no longer any of his concern. And if the Signoria tried to send him back to the holy city, God help them all.

The hideout’s door suddenly banged open, and Machiavelli jumped, spilling a container of ink all over his dispatch. He was still swearing when la Volpe came charging down the stairs, his dark eyes wide and bright and his face split into a wide smile.

“Cesare Borgia is dead!” he announced, coming to a halt in front of Machiavelli’s desk, and threw his arms in the air.

Machiavelli stared at him. After a lengthy pause, he frowned and said, “Are you drunk?”

“Entirely sober! Borgia really is gone! Ezio killed him in Vianna—threw him off a bridge!”

“It was the wall of a fortress, actually. And it was two weeks ago.”

Volpe’s smile faltered. “What?”

“I said it was two weeks ago.” Machiavelli dropped his ruined dispatch into the bin beneath his desk and pulled a fresh sheaf of paper close. He rummaged in his desk for a fresh container of ink.

“That’s…” Volpe lowered himself into the chair across the desk, his mouth agape. “Two weeks ago? How am I just now learning of it, then?”

“I don’t know, Gilberto,” Machiavelli said, his tone sarcastic and biting, “perhaps you should attempt to report to the hideout more often, or, dare I say it, even stay in one place long enough that any of my previous twenty letters might have reached you.”

“Two weeks,” Volpe repeated again, his voice faint. “Christ. Where’s Ezio?”

“He hasn’t yet returned. I had a letter from him a few days ago assuring me that he is, in fact, returning.”

“Was that in doubt?”

“It’s Ezio,” Machiavelli said, as if that explained all, and really, it did. He uncapped the ink and saturated his pen, then began rewriting his letter to Marcello.

La Volpe pushed his hood back and ran a hand through his hair. It was beginning to grey at the roots, Machiavelli observed, and he found that surprised him a little. “What have you been doing?”

“Offering my custodial services to the whole of Italia,” Machiavelli muttered. When Volpe stared at him, puzzled, he sighed and waved a hand. “Cleaning up Ezio’s mess.”

“Mess? What mess? A tyrant who plagued all of Italy is finally slain! Why are people not celebrating in the streets?”

“Because as fast as one tyrant falls, five rise up to replace him.” Machiavelli flipped his page over and shook out his hand before taking up the pen again.

“Perhaps as far as the rest of the world is concerned. Will you stop writing for a minute?” Volpe demanded, and reached across the desk to grasp Machiavelli’s wrist. Machiavelli snapped his head up, glaring, and Volpe sighed. “We’ve finally killed the most powerful man in the Templar Order. They’re reeling. We’ve secured the Apple of Eden. We saved the world, Niccolò.”

“We ended the tyranny of an ex-cardinal who failed to mind his pen and pocketbook as well as he minded his sword,” Machiavelli said flatly. “And all manner of princes both just and cruel scramble over one another to occupy his petty throne. Shall we drunkenly celebrate our minor victory while those snakes slither in the dark?”

Volpe smiled, and it was a bitter thing, and sad. “You’ll drive yourself to madness, amico, if you don’t learn to savor even those minor victories.”

Machiavelli snorted and bent back over his dispatch. “I envy you the luxury of your time, Gilberto, but some of us have republics to defend.”

Volpe was quiet for a long moment—and then he lunged forward, seized the letter, and darted to the other side of the room with it held high over his head. Machiavelli stared at him, open-mouthed, pen still poised to jot the next word.

“What are you doing?”

Volpe took a step backward, toward the fireplace at the other side of the room. Machiavelli twitched. “Nothing.”

“Don’t you dare. You’ve already made me restart once.”

“I’m not doing anything,” Volpe said, and took another step toward the fire.

Machiavelli got to his feet. “Gilberto.”

“Niccolò?”

“Don’t.”

“Don’t what?”

“I have neither the time nor the patience for your childishness. Give it back.”

Volpe was at the fireplace now. He held the letter toward its yawning stony mouth, his eyebrows arched. “Give what back?”

Machiavelli circled his desk, growling. “God damn it, Gilberto, stop teasing.”

“Come here then, and take it from me, if you want it so badly.”

Volpe’s hand threatened toward the fire, and Machiavelli lunged at him. He should have known better than to think he’d be successful in snatching it from the finest thief Italy had ever known, but Machiavelli was nothing if not ambitious. Volpe flicked it out of his reach as easily as a parent might deny a child a treat, and then the thief’s other arm was around his waist, pulling him in close, and Volpe’s mouth was on his. Machiavelli drew up short, startled both by the suddenness of the kiss and by its intensity. Volpe’s other hand—God only knew where he’d put down the missive, probably down the back of his hose, with Machiavelli’s luck—wound tight in his hair, cradled the nape of his neck.

Volpe drew back, smiling into Machiavelli’s stunned expression, and then leaned forward to kiss his slack mouth again. There was such heat in that kiss, so unapologetic, and Machiavelli felt it like a current that travelled from his lips to his toes. He surprised even himself when he leaned into it, seizing handfuls of Volpe’s cloak and pulling him closer, and when Volpe’s lips parted around a soft, pleased note of surprise, Machiavelli swept his tongue into the older man’s mouth.

Volpe grabbed him and turned him around, pressing him against the nearest wall, and Machiavelli let him, growling and tangling his hands in the thief’s hair to tug him down for a kiss that turned rough, almost brutal. Volpe’s mouth was slick and warm, and Machiavelli plundered it with a hunger that surprised even him. When they parted, breathless, panting wetly, Volpe’s eyes were wild and that mouth was grinning. Machiavelli groaned and leaned close, bit gently at the thief’s lower lip.

“Why now?” he murmured, and gathered Volpe’s hair in his hand, tipped the thief’s head back. Volpe let him, and Machiavelli leaned in to caress the older man’s racing pulse with his mouth. “After all this time?”

Volpe chucked, throat vibrating against Machiavelli’s tongue. “Would you have let me kiss you while Cesare Borgia still drew breath?”

“No,” Machiavelli admitted. “But God, the time he’s stolen from us.”

“We have time yet.” Volpe cupped Machiavelli’s face in his hands and tilted his chin up, brought him close for a kiss that was very nearly tender. “Perhaps all the time in the world—which we saved, by the way, in case you’d forgotten.”

“For a moment,” Machiavelli reminded him.

The kiss Volpe placed against his mouth was sharp and full of promise. The thief’s dark eyes glittered as they drew apart to gaze at one another. “Then the moment is ours,” Volpe murmured, and the press of their mouths was so delicious and so intoxicating that Machiavelli almost believed him.