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ninarobinson-author · 1 year

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Little Ashes: The Surreal Insanity of Dalí

Dalí the Dandy Villain - in the film little fascist, I mean "Little Ashes."

Warnings: nudity, fascism, homophobia, cursing, anarchy, politics, war, death (minor) +++Queer Fanfic at the end

Affiliations: revolutionary, change, taboo, disruption,

oppression, repression

art, poetry, politics

Odd, strange, bizarre, different, atypical, queer, avant garde

("Little Ashes:" Setting: Spain 1922)

Dali's World:

Dali doesn’t maintain a single and continual persona like most healthy people. Dali creates a new personality as he would create a new piece of art. It's too boring to stay the same. A person needs to switch things up every now and then to keep things interesting. Especially for creative geniuses. He is not humble; he knows that he is a genius. Dali is in fact, a self proclaimed monarch. He knows he is a king and will hold himself in high esteem. Dali is highly delusional and egocentric, but that is just how artists are, right? Dali lacks authentic emotion; he is detached from reality and chooses to live in only Dali’s world. His mannerism and gestures are like a baby in a rocking chair. He is both naive and dictatorial. Much of the time Dali seems to be staring off into space, mute, having no personality and then suddenly acting erratic.

In contrast to King Salvador, Federico Garcia Lorca is very polite, according to Luis. In Federico's poem (“The Soul of the West Wind") he writes about butterflies, thrills, and god. Luis thinks his writing is a bit too Andalusian. He thinks Federico is in danger of becoming bourgeois. He says his writing is “bloody good,” it's just the subject of his writing is lacking passion, or as they call it "duende." Duende here meaning, "a passion on the edge of life and death." Luis would prefer if he wrote something more political such as the decapitation of a "putrid priest in Zaragoza."

(Luis Buñuel and Federico García Lorca)

Luis: “What does Federico Garcia Lorca feel about all these bloody butterflies?” “What makes him angry?” “What turns him on?”

The most magical moment in the film is when Dali makes his first appearance. The audience sees a nervous Dali anxiously awaiting his first day at the art college.

(Salvador Dalí)

The spectators see an absurd creature stand before them. Lorca feels a fresh wind of change entering his life.

(Arrival at Art College in Madrid, Spain)

Dali is new and has not yet found out who he is as an artist. Whereas, Lorca is well known at the college and has made strides in his work. Having already been published and gained wider fame even beyond the college. Dali, having already been privy to Lorca’s work, looks up to Lorca and admires this writing.

(Luis Buñuel and Salvador Dalí)

(Federico García Lorca)

Salvador uses Federico as his muse to inspire better paintings. He sees Lorca as the pinnacle of artistic inspiration. Although in truth, Lorca may have lost his duende and seems to have hit a plateau in his creative work. That is where the fresh and intriguing Dali has come in to help. Federico is fascinated by Dali and inflamed, quite literally turned on by his presence. It seems as though Salvador is also lacking a reason to paint as he can’t put his brush to a canvas for the first thirty-eight minutes of the film. When he does have a brush in his hand he looks stressed and frustrated. Much of the time Salvador is shown to be sneaking voyeuristic glances at Federico. This is the spark that the two needed in order to produce work that is inspired and passionate. At first, the dynamic between the two is like a game of cat and mouse. This push and pull could signify the tension it takes to create, before finally giving in and creating a piece of art.

Salvador was like most any other college student, lost, unsure of himself and begging for attention. The only way to capture the attention of the famous Federico Garcia Lorca was to quietly draw him into his web. He was strategic in his methods. Making himself appear to be in the right place at the right time, not to come off as trying too hard. He wanted Lorca to view him as intellectual and artistic, just as he views Lorca. His methods were adolescent. He placed a canvas that he had already finished painting on the easel. He assumed the pose of an artist, leaving his door wide open as to be seen by anyone who happened to be passing by, and ‘accidentally’ dropping his paint brushes as Luis Bunuel was walking by. However, Luis was on to his game and commented on his “strategically placed copy of Freud.”

(Luis Buñuel)

Dali is like a spider in how he captures his prey. At first, he was unassuming, as a spider’s web is unassuming. It is only when the prey is caught in the web does it realize how insidious the web becomes when initially it seems inviting and delicately sprung. That is, until the spider encases its prey with the same means that drew it in, and devours it with pleasure.

(An unassuming Salvador Dalí)

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Dali joins a group of equally interesting and talented gentlemen and women. Dali is treated like a collected piece of art himself, as he is described as yet another acquisition of Luis Bunuel. The only ones brave enough to consider themselves genius are Dali and Lorca. The group appears to be a sort of rat pack. All sharing the same artistic airs of snobbery and frivolities. The woman called Magdalena claimed to have read eighty books over the holidays, when she had only read ten. This is just one example of the kind of performative intellectualism that goes on among these college students. This is normal behavior for this age group, as well as a common tendency of most artistically inclined people. They appear to believe that if they act as a great artist they may eventually turn into one.

Salvador, Federico, Luis, Magdalena and others

Since I am no history buff, I may not have a grasp on the details of the political nature in Spain in the nineteen-twenties. However, I can feel the spirit of revolution and necessary change that the anarchists propose. This is why I love Luis Bunuel’s commentary throughout the film. He is a no nonsense, honest type. Despite his unfortunate homophobic attitude, his commentary is bang on.

Luis Buñuel and Salvador Dalí

Bunuel is clearly into politics, and he holds what at that time, seems to be extreme beliefs. He wants the corruption purged from his country, by the most swift of means.

Luis Buñuel and Federico García Lorca

Lorca also shares this strong sense of liberation. Bunuel, being a part the Ultraism underground movement, takes Lorca and Dali to a low profile puppet show. The show highlights their political beliefs in a very humorous manner, but the message is clear. The pope is living in gross wealth by stealing from the people through taxation. While the people are living like peasants do, starving. They simply want freedom in their country. I can’t see why these democratic beliefs wouldn't have a wider appeal among the general populace. They have to go on about their political perspectives while hidden away in a hole in the wall.

We get another unforgettable scene in the film. At twenty-one minutes into the film, the tension is palpable. Lorca seems to have consciously discovered his admiration for Dali. In the scene, he is a little too obviously staring at Dali, yearning for him even. Then within a few micro expressions, he momentarily attempts to hide it, and finally he seems ashamed. Dali is unaware of Lorca’s staring, then he catches on, and is left equally embarrassed.

Little Ashes is perversely delightful. It inspires you to throw caution to the wind and do the things that most are afraid to do. Whether that be artistically, socially, politically, or sexually.

The funniest scene is the aftermath of this, with Federico’s realization of his desire for Salvador.

Federico García Lorca

Although both men are assumed to be straight, they experiment with their sexuality as they do their with their creative endeavors. This nineteen-twenties society doesn’t exactly welcome maricóns with open arms. Feddy is repenting for his “impure thoughts” of Salvador. He prays to be freed of this black widow spider. He continues to avoid him like the plague. There is a scene where Federico sees Salvador walking up the stairwell, and he reacts as though he has witnessed the devil incarnate himself.

This scene is not just about portraying Federico running from his homosexuality, this scene portrays the villainous energy of Salvador Dali and says a lot about Salvador as a character. Salvador stands for everything that is taboo and different. Dali is, by nature, a rare creature. He is artistic and strangely enchanting. Salvador Dali is the villain. His very existence threatens the established order. He is a disruption to society, the art world and to the people around him. He is capable of corrupting the status quo in the most interesting and unexpected of ways. Salvador Dali is a rare gem that Bunuel and Lorca were lucky enough to collect. Dali himself is like a fine painting worth billions. Ultimately, though, unlike a piece of art, he has the freedom to walk away anytime he likes. Dali cannot simply be owned like a painting.

Lorca despite his revolutionary aspirations, comes across as still rather old fashioned in some kind of way. Lorca is well mannered and morally righteous. He is the type to pray, respect his teachers and be diplomatic. Dali is alienated from any kind of normal demeanor and disregardful of the traditional niceties of society. He doesn’t care about keeping the peace and will be downright disrespectful and rowdy at times. Initially, it was this very chaotic behavior and strange persona that drew Lorca to him. In the end, the two grew apart and became too different to coexist with each other. Lorca grew tired of Dali’s games and found him to be displeasing. Perhaps it was Dali’s new admiration for fascism that put a bad taste in his mouth. After seeing so many of Dali’s childish antics, I personally can’t take anything he did seriously. For Lorca this stood against everything he was fighting for, and was unforgivable. Dali was a man of varied and extreme tastes.

Dali is certainly queer. Although it is a matter of semantics, I don’t think Dali was truly gay or at least not looking for a real relationship with Federico. Dali is so artistically inclined that he would be willing to try anything once and will quickly move on to the next thing that captures his attention. Federico just happened to be one of Dali’s many fixations. This is shown when Dali suddenly leaves Federico in Spain and goes to Paris with Bunuel to contribute to his play and advance his artistic predilections. In defense of Dali, I don’t believe that he was truly cold hearted. He merely had a higher vision and purpose to his life. Dali lives for art. Dali creates art but he also lives by the philosophy of art. Art cannot be understood logically but it has to be felt. Dali likes to feel energized and free. He is like a bird, he may leave Lorca today to fly to Paris, but by tomorrow he will be back to share his spoils. As a piece of art may be interpreted, you must interpret Dali’s actions.

Salvador Dalí

On the surface, Salvador Dali is a villain. Indeed he is the villain. But in the same thread, he is also the absurdist hero. Despite every dastardly action of Dali we root for him anyway. For the sake of the human spirit to be free! Dali is a rich well of multitudes of colors, like a rainbow. Perhaps Dali’s sexuality was as fluid as a rainbow and not so easily defined by human words. Each day he chooses a different color that will surprise and shock. Dali is disgustingly weak and fragile and in others he is brave and inventive. His transformation from the start of college to the beginning of his fame is like witnessing a train wreck come back from destruction.

Salvador Dalí

Interestingly enough, it does not appear that Federico was gay either. As he is always shown to be intertwined with Magdalena. Unless, you consider his relationship with Magdalena a performance. There is definitely a lot homophobic rhetoric and symbolism going on throughout the film, so it is likely that both Lorca and Dali felt internalized homophobia. Especially with the pressure from the larger conservative and violent society. Even their close friend, Luis Bunuel is shown as highly homophobic and threatens violence on the maricons.

Human relationships can be ambiguous so who can truly say. Queerness and artistic persuasions are similar, in that they creatively break the norms of society. It’s a good parallel to use to understand the revolutionary emotions of the film. Political freedom, artistic expression, and sexual liberty can all be frightening and exhilarating. I don’t think the focus of the film is only about sexuality. Salvador Dali is an artist that you cannot fully capture, there is something about him that you just can’t put your finger on. That is why Federico cannot understand Dali. He is not supposed to. The film is really great at doing just that. Dali is equally mystical and insane. I use insane pretty loosely here. I should really be using the word surreal when describing Dali.

Another way you can view their relationship, is that they admire each other’s creations so much that they wanted to make their art come alive in a more “raw” expression. As Bunuel said, both Dali and Lorca are “self-titled geniuses.” Love for oneself to an extent can become narcissism. Each became fascinated with the other due to seeing the reflection of their own genius in the other. Were they truly falling in love with one another or just falling in love with their own reflection? Ultimately, falling in love with the reflection of their own artistic sentiments. Much of the ambiguous nature of their relationship can be left to interpretation and is wonderfully captured in the film.

I do think Dali is absolutely savage in all of his expressions. With the way he behaves, it's any wonder how he can practically live in the real world outside of his artistic daydreams. Understanding Lorca’s success is easy because he has every positive affiliation under the sun. You feel that he has slowly and surely built a name for himself in the standard fashion. Dali is so disruptive that the surrealists literally “expelled him from the movement.” Creativity is by nature, a chaotic and destructive thing. That is why Dali detests the art college professors from critiquing him. Giving a commendable villainous speech on how he disapproves of the professors wasting his talent and showcasing how useless they are.

Salvador: “Gentlemen, I have returned from Paris with the conclusion that the entire amount of real, artistic knowledge contained within this panel of professors is not equal to one half of this. This, my fingernail. Not one half, gentlemen. And I’ve been insulting myself, by letting your shoddy practices, your pathetic outdated theories, and questionable character shit on my genius. I hope with all my heart that you’ll realize I am right and give up this foolishness and go back to the pigsties and the haystacks where you might be of some real use.”

Salvador Dalí roasting the art professors

Dali does not need the approval of anyone. He is willing to burn any bridge that stands in the way of his creativity. That is pretty savage. It is this quality that Magdalena admires in Salvador and the very reason she invites him to her aunt’s “legendarily dull dinner parties.” When someone says party, they instantly think of Dali. An actual quote from Salvador Dali comes to mind, “I don’t do drugs, I am a drug.” She even says that it is vital for her aunt to know people such as Salvador. He is a good representation of the revolutionary ideology that her conservative aunt is sheltered from. Merely being in Dali’s presence is enlightening. This isn’t to say that Salvador doesn’t get extremely drunk at the party. As you may have realized by now that Dali is truly a walking contradiction. Not only are there conservative people attending the party but literary censors from Madrid are present as well. This uptight and stuffy dinner party is the perfect scene to make Salvador Dali shine in all of his counter-cultural glory. At the very least, you will be entertained by his antics. Worst case scenario, you are chased out of the building by civil guards. Either way, it will be a night to remember.

Salvador Dalí at Magdalena's aunt's dinner party

Little Ashes: Defining quotes:

Luis Bunuel: “All the institutions that prop up this corrupt regime must be dismantled!”

Paco: “I just think it sounds a bit extreme.”

Luis Bunuel: “But it has to be extreme, Paco. It has to be complete revolution. All the churches, all the palaces.”

Salvador Dali: “You know, when I was small there was this ruined tower near our house in Cadaques. I would sit in this tower and I’d draw, and draw and draw. I never came down. Just imagine this little shrimp of a child, half-starved, covered in piss. And I wouldn’t come down in the winter, in the summer. In the freezing cold, I’d fill this iron tub with water and I’d sit in it for days. It’s like even then I realized that if I’m going to be anything more than average, if anyone is going to remember me, then I need to go further in everything. In art, in life. And everything that they think is real, morality, immorality, good, bad, I, we have to smash that to pieces. And we have to go beyond that. We have to be brave, Frederico.”

Federico Garcia Lorca: “No limit.”

Salvador Dali is excessive in his pleasures as well as his snobbery. He is self indulgent and selfish. To be fair, he needs to be selfish for the sake of his work. If Dali were not selfish, he would lose his artistic voice catering to the whims of others. It's this dastardly quality that makes Dali a villain, a villain you have to respect. Even though you hate him, you must admit that it is his unwillingness to compromise that makes him get what he wants. Dali is a fully concentrated, unfiltered can of artistic expression.

Dali can be considered a reckless trouble maker or a mischievous gremlin. Dali creates some sort of mayhem everywhere he goes. In one scene, Dali convinces Lorca to steal a couple of bicycles with him. Lorca gives in and follows Dali, throwing caution to the wind. This starts the beginning of a new chapter in their relationship. A dirty secret that no doubt draws Lorca only that much further into Dali’s web. Dali rides ahead at full speed, while Lorca can barely keep up. This is symbolic of their relationship, Dali moving forward and never looking back, while Lorca can only try to keep up with the new thing Dali is on to.

When I say Dali is a spider, I mean he has caught Lorca in his web of desire with no intention of a fulfilling relationship. I believe Lorca loved Dali more than he loved him back. You can always sense that Dali is somewhere else, that is just who he is. But you can sense the unevenness in their relationship by analyzing the scenes where they invite each other to their childhood homes. Salvador doesn’t invite Federico to his home, he says that he is coming, as if it is already a given. Federico overlooks his lack of consideration, and treats it as a forgivable child-like exuberance. Later in the film, when Federico politely asks Salvador to come to see his family, his home, and everything that he is, Salvador disregards his offer and tells him that he already sees who he is. That speaks volumes to me. It’s like Dali doesn’t care to know who Federico really is, outside of what he believes him to be, the famous and daring Federico Garcia Lorca. When Dali first arrived at college, his mind was preoccupied with art. His relationship with Lorca is purely business. Lorca serves as a muse and Dali is close to devouring him, physically and metaphysically. I think that is what is so selfish about Dali; he will use Lorca's heart if it will help improve him artistically. Dali is eccentric and almost inhuman. His artwork made him immortal in a sense. I think that is what he was going for. Dali assumed that they would live on in his paintings forever. Lorca believed that eventually they would be nothing but dust, or little ashes. There is a sensibility in Lorca. Dali always seemed to have eyes that were larger than his stomach, in terms of what he wanted to achieve. His visions were always fantastical and simply nonsensical. In art, this is an empowering notion. In real life, it is simply unrealistic.

So Federico goes to visit his family for the holiday break, alone. He writes this letter to Salvador:

“Salvador, I think of you and I’ve never thought more intensely in my life. Since our time together, everything I am has been split apart. I write in a way that I’ve never thought possible. My pen scratches the surface of things, the masks. And then it goes beyond them, right down to the bones. Down to the dark, cold jelly in the marrow.”

And he writes back.

“Federico, from the day you left, I’ve been in the studio day and night. I started to work on designs for your play. I’m doing them gypsy-style. Andalusian, like you. The unconscious mind, Federico, rises like a beast within me. I let it speak and it produces such wonders.”

Then once more from Federico,

“It’s true. I touch sea bottom in myself and my poems write themselves. I am, just as you said, raw, bloody, alive. And I, too, want to be alive.

Dali, once again, is a little thief and steals the key to Lorca’s room. He is working on the set designs for Lorca’s play. This is where the two share a kiss before they are interrupted by Luis. Before that though, Dali mentions a line from Lorca’s letter, “everything that you are being split apart.” This line in his letter also caught my attention. Federico said something similar to this when he invited Dali to his childhood home. He said “I want to show you everything that I am.” When Dali refused and he was left alone to visit, that was when he wrote “everything that I am being split apart.” Was this splitting apart triggered by the absence of Dali? It seems like a romantic notion, but it may be due to Dali’s all-encompassing influence on Federico. Dali seems to have changed Federico’s view of himself to fit the ideals of Dali. Living in Dali's world has corrupted Federico. Dali has completely disrupted his morality and his religious beliefs. For better or worse, is not the point. The point is, Dali has a hold on Lorca. Like a spider, Dali has fully wrapped Lorca in his web. Just in time for feasting on his face.

Luis asks Federico how the progress for his screenplay edit is going only to find out Federico has no idea what he is talking about. He is referring to the screenplay he asked him to write about. Federico’s excuse being that he hadn’t had much time. It’s because his world now revolves around the all-important Salvador Dali. Dali asks Feddy to “play the putrescent game,” to Luis’s confusion. Luis looks as though he is being left out of some inside joke. Dali explains that putrescent is his new word and that it means outdated, outmoded. As if to say that the friendship between Federico and Luis is outdated. The word that Dali owns seems to signify that Luis is living in Dali’s world now. The atmosphere changes as though Salvador has put a wall between Luis and that he has Federico all to himself. Luis tries to play along but it is clear that there is something special between the two of them that Luis is no longer involved in. It’s the Dali and Lorca show and Luis has become the third wheel. Federico attempts to hide the tense atmosphere by inviting the whole gang out. Dali asks Lorca what he should wear. Luis is sensing their homo relationship. Obviously, it appears like the homophobic Luis is becoming suspicious of the two. Beyond that, It once again highlights the level of narcissism in Dali and the control he has over Federico. Could what Lorca sees as a mutual relationship, really just be Dali indulging in his artistic frivolities? Dali could never have this much self-involvement in any friendship, so he uses the intimate relationship he has with Lorca to play his strange games and to self-indulge in his own egoism.

Salvador: “Federico is working on something now that will blow everything apart.”

Luis: “What’s it about? His family? Butterflies? God?”

Salvador: “Me.”

Salvador Dalí talking to Luis Buñuel

Somehow, Dali, this strange man has consumed Federico Garcia Lorca for everything that he is and has spit him back out. Lorca has turned his back on everything and everyone for Dali. Where once Dali was the fanboy of Lorca, now Lorca is a fan of Dali. Dali has truly used an Uno Reverse Card here. Does Dali share the same amount of admiration and loyalty? Not really. Dali leaves Federico behind for the opportunity of finding success in Paris. After listening to Luis talk about how dull Lorca’s work is and how he the people in Paris "wouldn’t give a fuck about his work." Dali doesn’t defend Lorca, he only talks about himself. The level of snobbery is unmatched. It only takes a little convincing on Luis’s part to convince Dali not only is Federico done for as an artist, but that life in Spain is over with.

After all of the accommodation Federico had done for Salvador, it is understandable why he would be upset that he left him. Salvador chose to work with Luis, the rageful homophobe of all people. Dali goes to Paris to pursue his art, to meet Picasso and the surrealists. Lorca quickly comes to understand that he is losing Salvador, that he doesn’t hold the same grip that Salvador has on him. Salvador was always flighty and unpredictable, but he was never this way towards him. It's as if their relationship was just another bright and sparkly object that momentarily caught Dali’s eye. If Federico was split apart before, now he is absolutely ripped apart and burned to little ashes.

In the first half of the film, we witness the transformation of Dali from a meek thing into a loud and daring man. With the inspiration of Federico Garcia Lorca, Dali was able to transform from a novice artist into a genius artist from the tales of some fantastical myth. By the second half of the film, Dali has once again reinvented himself, this time without the presence of Federico. When Federico sees Salvador for the first time since he’s arrived back in Spain, it is like he is meeting an entirely new person. Dali is ever changing, like the moon has many phases. Sadly, Federico was caught in a phase that couldn’t come true. Dali has left a mark on Lorca’s heart, though it doesn’t seem that Dali has been affected at all. Can he really brush off all that has happened and begin a new life just like that?

When Dali returns to share his exploits, including the naked photo of a woman called Gala. Lorca is not so happy with Dali’s cavalier attitude. He doesn’t want to be considered as just another one of Dali’s fascinations or thrilling conquests. He wants to matter, but not in the way Dali thinks he matters, as the famous Federico Garcia Lorca. Wasn’t their relationship more personal than that? Were the sentiments they shared merely just artistic thrills? Did any of that actually touch Dali’s heart? It definitely touched Lorca, “down to the very cold jelly in the marrow.”

Federico had grown tired of Dali’s games. He wants to know who Dali really is, not just who he pretends to be. Dali plans to start what he calls his “real life.” This makes Federico feel like nothing more than an old pair of tattered shoes. Salvador now made it sound like the time he spent with Federico was nothing but a dull and tortuous thing of the past he had to endure. Not only is Dali physically different, but the change in Dali’s character is totally unrecognizable to Federico. He feels alienated from the man he once felt so close to. After the time spent in Paris, it is clear that Luis has become Dali’s new compadre, as he begins to recite the same homophobic rhetoric back to Federico in the most hypocritical fashion.

Dali: “Why can’t you just be happy for me?”

Dali: “You’re a selfish fucking maricon.”

Salvador Dalí with Federico García Lorca

Again, it is a shame the homophobic rhetoric will paint Salvador Dali's actions as purely evil. Instead, if we just look at the situation in terms of pursuing artistic endeavors, we will see that Dali's actions are quite necessary to the success of his artistic ambitions.

Speaking of Luis and Dali spending their time together in Paris. The film they were creating strongly references to Lorca, it is called “An Andalusian Dog.” It looks like it was Dali and Bunuel's intention to mock Lorca.

Federico García Lorca with Magdalena

That is some truly despicable backstabbing. What did Lorca ever do to you Dali? It seems like the only way Dali could come to terms with his own internalized homophobia was to blame Federico for his feelings. Spending time with Luis was not a positive influence on the highly influenced Dali. Being that his identity is so flexible. Federico may have brought out the best in Dali, both artistically and emotionally. Whereas Luis brought out the worst in him.

Dali stopped all communication and affiliation with Lorca. Not responding to the letters that Federico had written to him. Federico was completely pushed out of Salvador Dali’s life.

Federico: “It’s as if nothing ever happened. Sometimes I think we never even met.”

By the time Federico catches up with Dali for the final time, Dali has been fully transformed into a caricature of the man he once knew. He is sporting a ridiculous mustache, no matter how fashionable it may be. His speech is full of metaphors and he speaks in an odd accentuated manner. By some impossibility, his clothes and surroundings are somehow even more pretentious than they were before. Dali comments that Federico looks the same in contrast to Dali whose identity changes like a revolving door.

Salvador recites Wait Whitman: “All this time. The dark unfathomed retrospect. The teaming gulf. The sleepers and shadows.”

Salvador introduces his wife Gala to Federico and seems to be trying to create some sort of ménage à trois scenario.

Dali: “The only viable solution to surrealism is the world war. A cleansing. Cut through all this dead wood. Purge the weak elements. An era of enlightenment.”

Salvador Dalí with Federico García Lorca and Gala

Lorca: “Are you saying you actually support the fascist? You used to be an anarchist.”

Federico García Lorca with Salvador Dalí and Gala

Dali: “Oh Federico, you’ve become so liberal. What with your government schemes and your theatral little people.”

Lorca: “Listen, this country is on the brink of something terrible and here you are siding with the people who could destroy everything we stand for. I know you are not through but you must see there’s been no freedom of speech. Anyone who is different, who strays from the norm would just be wiped out.”

Dali: “Would that be a bad thing?”

Lorca: “You’re joking.”

Gala explains that Dali is not interested in politics. That doesn’t mean he should mock Federico and his beliefs. Salvador knows the severity of the situation but instead makes light of it and turns it into a joke.

Federico recites his poem of Dali and wants him to recite his ode, telling of his olive-colored voice. Once again highlighting Dali’s egocentrism. Lorca says Dali always has a plan for everything. Dali claims he can guess the actions of Lorca. This is because Dali is a spider and spins his plans like a spider would its web. Like a spider can sense the vibrations on the web when its prey moves, Dali always knows the next move of the people trapped in his web. Dali proposes that Federico pack his things and come with him to conquer America. Another attempt to pull Federico back into his web of control. After suggesting a ménage à trois situation, Federico is not into it and leaves pretty quickly after that. The sad thing is that Dali had deluded himself into thinking that Federico truly had nothing better to do than to wait around for the great King Dali.

Federico returns to his home town of Granada only to be targeted by the civil guard and abducted. Federico has made a name for himself after his political views became a threat to the established regime. The punishment for freedom of speech is death, apparently. After Federico Garcia Lorca is executed by the civil guard, Salvador Dali loses his mind. Salvador Dali's sanity was already questionable, but this time he’s really lost it for good. I’m sure Salvador was feeling latent regret.

Takeaway: Salvador used Federico as a muse and his personal fan. He had no real feelings. Salvador used him as training wheels before he outgrew him. Federico sees Salvador’s growth as a negative instead of a natural process and change of life. Let the bird fly and if it comes back to you it was meant to be. By the time Salvador came back, Federico had also grown and moved on. Both men pursued their creative work. Having had the beautiful experiences and inspiration from the other to move forward in their careers.

Bonus for the romantics:

If you care to view Dali the way I believe Lorca sees him, feel free to read the inner dialogue I wrote of Federico Garcia Lorca below. Warning: Federico is a total simp for Salvador.

Federico García Lorca staring at Salvador Dalí

Federico García Lorca STILL staring at Salvador Dalí

Someone who is interesting from head to toe. Strange hair style and an avant garde fashion sense. Everyone notices you when you enter the room. You take with you a universe of dreams. Your sturdy yet fragile ego. The nervous tremor in your hand is what makes you all the more fascinating. How can someone as strong as you be nervous in simple situations such as this? It’s humanizing, you who was untouchable might just be like me in a way. If I could be similar to you I would be flattered. The piece of hair tucked behind your ear. Although you look like a nervous mess and a bundle of nerves I sense that you hold a stronger power than you confess. The intensity emanating from the darkness in your light colored eyes. I see who you really are behind the mask.

Someone who is more interesting on the inside. Whose powers and abilities are seemingly endless. Wanting to look deeper into your soul but getting lost in an endless abyss. The odd remarks you make. Your delusional imagination of the past and future. You have a grandiose self image that carries you forward at an unstoppable rate. You are extraordinarily impressive when you do what you really want without approval from others. The way you disregard the standards set by our society. You yell, mock, vandalize and oppose the established order.

Although you look like a pathetic chicken standing on his only leg, you are absolutely dazzling. It’s almost entertaining to see what you’ll look like tomorrow. You are so dynamic I can't wait to see what happens next. Meeting you was like unfolding a story. You change your identity daily. You don’t care if you’re mad. You boldly lie about who you are. But I actually believe your lies. The lies you tell are still a part of who you are, inside. You can imagine things that others can’t, you imagine a different world, turned upside down on its ass. I’ve found myself wanting to trust in your lies over reality.

All I need is to follow you, no matter where it leads me. The world is just the world but the world changes when you’re in it. Even when you do things that I can not find myself to begin to forgive you for. You don’t sacrifice your dreams for anyone, not even me. I’m okay with that. I know that I am just another chapter in the grand story of you. I just want to stay in the plot for as long as I'm useful. You seem to always know where you’re going. You have a mission in life. Your life has a purpose unlike most. You are my messiah. Your brain thinks twice as fast as mine. Your imagination is endless. I’m on a ride and I don't want to get off. It’s exhilarating and I pity those whose lives are completely stationary going round and round on the same orbit.

This has been a creative review of "Little Ashes" 2008 Film, Starring: Robert Pattinson, Director: Paul Morrison, Screenplay: Paul Morrison, Philippa Goslett

youtube

I highly encourage you watch this film if you haven't already.

Article written by Nina Robinson, author of novel "Villainism", via villainism.com

#robert pattinson #salvador dali #little ashes #robert pattinson fanfic #little ashes fanfic #robert pattinson ff #queer stories #villainism #Youtube

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betatesterjenny · 2 months

Text

[Video recording begin.]

[The recording begins with Jenny inching down an alleyway, hesitation evident. As she reaches the corner, she slowly peeks around the wall. Her hand goes to cover her mouth.]

[The camera shows Mari, two armed robbers faced towards them, at gunpoint. They’re talking into their phone. The two armed men appear inexperienced, their hands shake as they hold the guns up. Their body language betrays their hesitation to pull the trigger.]

M: WHAT THE FUCK? WHY THE HELL DO PEOPLE KEEP ATTACKING ME IN THE ALLEY.

?: [Through the phone, fairly quiet.] Because you’re a fucking idiot. Now zip it before you get shot.

M: Dude. Fuck you.

?: Yeah, whatever. I have a plan, but you’ll need to agree before I can actually do anything. So unless you want these fuckers to put a bullet through your skull, you should probably hurry the fuck up.

M: What is it?

?: No time! Just say yes!

M: FINE! YES! WHATEVER!

[Mari’s eyes immediately roll up into their skull, and they begin to fall, before everything snaps back into place. They look around for a second, before smiling. The two robbers appear uneasy, staring Mari down, trying to discern what happened. ]

[They lift their right arm, and shake it around. They inspect it as if it’s something alien to them.]

M(?): Oh, this is so weird!

[After looking at their other arm, they look up, and then laugh. It echoes slightly, the volume and intensity of it causes the two armed robbers to flinch. But still, they stand their ground.]

M(?): Yes, yes, I know. This is all just a little odd. It’s been a while!

[Mari laughs again, before their right arm shoots out and grabs one of the two men by the shirt collar. He drops the gun. Within seconds, Mari’s arm is raised, hand curling into a fist. It appears almost puppet-like.]

[They slam their hand into the man’s face, before pulling their fist back and repeating the action. Over and over again until their fist is coated with blood, and the other stops moving. They let him fall to the ground, and they pick up the gun. Spinning it in their hand as they quickly move to the other man.]

[In one swift motion, they whack the second robber in the head with the gun. There is a loud crack, and he also falls to the concrete. Mari tosses the gun to the side, before putting their hands on their hips and looking around at their handiwork. The smile is still present. A light reflecting off of their eyes draws attention to them, they don’t appear quite right.]

[The camera angle changes a bit as Jenny stiffens, and pulls herself behind the corner again. Her breathing is heavy, then is suddenly dead silent as uneven footsteps begin to approach.]

[Another laugh is heard, this time it sounds to be a reaction to something said, even though there are no other voices to be heard. Mari walks around the corner, and immediately raises their fist. Likely intending on punching Jenny.]

[Jenny shrieks, covering her face as she sees the impending threat. Mari’s arm immediately halts, their eyebrows raise. They appear to cringe for a split second.]

M(?): Oh! Jenny! Didn’t see you there!

[A short pause. Mari’s eyes scan Jenny, they haven’t once blinked in the past 2 minutes.]

M(?): You alright there, Jenny?

J: Huh? … Oh, yeah, no, yeah, I’m fine, yeah! I, uh… Are you?

M(?): I’m just dandy. Don’t worry about me.

J: Okay…

[Jenny stands up, the camera shaking.]

J: I just wanted to let you know though, if uh… If you ever need to talk or anything, I’m here. Because, uh, I just saw… yeah. Yeah.

M(?): I might take you up on that offer, things have been a little rough lately. Thank you.

[Mari brings their hand up to their eye, wiping something away. There is a small streak of a dark colour on their finger. They quickly wipe the liquid off on their pants before widening their smile in an attempt to appear friendly.]

J: … Yeah. Um… Let me know. I can help you fight it off.

[Mari’s eye twitches, and the smile falters for a second. They maintain eye contact with Jenny for a slightly uncomfortable amount of time.]

M(?): Sure thing, Jenny.

J: Cooooool… Bye.

[Jenny quickly turns and sprints away, the video ending shortly afterwards.]

#fnaf ask blog #fnaf au

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furrbbyx · 1 year

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M👹NSTER March: Day 3 (Petals)

This is monster fluff.

Male/nonbinary monsterxcis human man

Sfw

Approx 800 words

Do not reproduce, Do not copy.

"You can learn a lot of things from the flowers indeed!" You stomp your foot and send a cloud of grit back into the canopy of flowers. You'd been having a perfect morning until you'd dozed off in a field of flowers. Now it seemed you were trapped here, no taller than a fairy foxglove, forced to wander between the endless blades of grass. Thinking yourself lucky, you'd stumbled into the afternoon chorus of a patch of wildflowers. You listened politely and even added your warbling voice to the melody, but they'd turned out to be quite unhappy with your voice and hastily shoved you out of sight with serrated leaves and not a thorn pricks.

"A bunch of inane narscissists, the lot of them" You groused. You looked up into the sky as you walked and sighed. The gently waving tips of the grass only made the sky look further away than ever.

"I completely agree." A voice wound around you from out of the foliage.

You turned in a circle where you stood trying to see who was speaking.

"Y-you do?"

A chuckle like a pebble dropped in a puddle rippled over you.

"Oh yes. It's unforgivably boorish." The voice was light and amused, drawing out the sound of the words a little strangely, but you still couldn't see the speaker.

You scanned the grasses again. Clovers, nodding blue sedge, a stalk of shocking pink false-orchids, but no other creature that you could tell. You sat down on a twig with a Hmmph!

"Well it's boorish to act so mysteriously don't you think? You must go to the same etiquette school as those wild flowers." you let and tossed a hand carelessly. You'd had enough of this little foray. Never had you imagined making friends with plants would be so annoying.

"Forgive my lack of manners. My kind are unusually recluse."

"Your kind?" You asked nervously. A movement caught your eye as one of the flowers clustered on the orchid stalk unfurled and stretched its arms and legs down to the ground with the delicate air of a dandy gentleman.

"Oh!" with a screech you fell off the twig into the grass behind you. In a moment a magnificent pink mantis was standing over you, head cocked and watching you with bulbous opaque white eyes.

Its sleek body looked like a collection of animated petals. The arms, bent it front like a dainty lady's, the thorax, even the back of it's head had a petal like bonnet mimicking the flashy pink the flowers it had been hiding in.

It was so beautiful, that your heart started to race uncontrollably and a flush crawled up your collar and over your face.

It reached out to you with one of its appendages.

"I didn't mean to startle you. Please, let me help you up"

Dazed, you reached out and allowed yourself to be pulled back upright. Close enough now to see the soft texture of its body you tilted you head back and gazed into the mantis's face.

"Greetings, I am Leifenalias" It said and dipped its body down gracefully with a head nod.

The blush that had been brewing splashed violently over your nose and cheeks. You spluttered a bit before getting a hold of you manners.

"Ahem. I'm Providence." You returned his bow with a slight nod of your own and tried to straighten your shirt and sweater vest but realized you were still holding on to Leifenalias. You released your grip hurriedly.

"Nice you meet you Providence. And who are your kind?"

For a moment you're confused. You think back, what had you been talking about?

"Ah! Well I suppose humankind, but my mother hails from the royal maroons and my father is distant cousin to the prince Gaou." A bit of normalcy came with the familiar recitation of the points of your lineage.

"I supposed I've never met a human" said Leifenalias "Nor have I heard of the genus Maroon or Gaou. How fascinating."

You rubbed the back of your neck, flattered. This powerful, genteel creature thought you were fascinating.

"pas anyen" you mutter and tug at your earlobe.

"Do you mind?" Leifenalias said and before waiting for an answer lifted you chin. You blinked at the sunlight and the big eyes now observing you very closely. Leifenialis turned your head slowly back and forth, caressing your jaw. The inspection did nothing to help the jumble of arousal and shyness that was roiling in your stomach. You tried not to seem rude but you couldn't help your own exploration of the insect before you. The angular head framed by the curl of the petal bonnet, the smooth movement of mandibles and twitching antennae. You wondered if his body was as pore less as it looked, and if the strange markings on its face, like ritual scars, would be be soft or chitinous.

"Would you like to talk a walk with me Providence? I would like to atone for my earlier rudeness and I find myself wanting more of your company." Leifenalias's voice was quiet as he gazed into your face intently. You swallowed roughly.

"I-I would like that, yes" Were you a bit breathless, sounding too eager?

"Lovely" The leg slipped from your jaw and was held out in front of you like a gentleman's arm. You placed your own atop it, shivering at the feel of the limb. Petal softness covering hard insect armor.

You follow Leifenalias through the forest of green bladed grass, falling under the spell of their voice.

#furrbbyx #monster lover #monster fluff #terato #monster march #writing practice #writing promts

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schismusic · 5 months

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Redecorating

I've done some pretty stupid shit in my life but this, this whole thing (imagine I'm gesturing around indistinctly with a ghastly look on my face), totally takes the cake. Is it funny if I do the tapping-the-mic-to-check-if-it-works gag in a written post?

It started when I was about to turn fifteen and trying to bed a girl - she honestly dodged a bullet when she said no, I cannot lie to you all. Anyway I guess I absolutely had to find an outlet for being an annoying teenager and being an asshole irl simply didn't cut it sometimes, you know how it is, most of us are here for that exact same reason.

A number of things have happened since I last posted on this hellsite. The short version is as follows:

I had an identity crisis, or two, or five;

I got a driver's license, somehow;

a worldwide pandemic hit, but I guess this is another one of those things that make us equal on this postapocalyptic landscape of a microblogging platform;

just as inexplicably as my driver's license, I also got a beautiful and lovely girlfriend of almost three years now;

who knows, I might even get a degree before 2024 is over.

This is all fine and dandy, of course, but sometimes a dude just needs to scream into the void, wherein "the void" in this case is about two hundred (!!!!) strangers on the internet, which probably includes you, dear reader. Thanks for sticking with me over these troublesome years of absolutely nothing happening on this blog.

What's new then?

Number one: "what the fuck kinda name is schismusic?"

Hi, my name is schismusic. I thought of this ungodly name when I was, as mentioned, a very pretentious fourteen-year-old, and it absolutely shows. However,

one could argue it's part of the charm in a way;

it grants a bit of relative anonimity compared to my other, more beloved Internet alias (which will inevitably come crashing against my inevitable post concerning my band and the record we made a while ago - more on this later);

somehow, it stuck. You people will eat up just about fucking anything, really!

(Another thing that happened: I learned a tiny bit of HTML, because Letterboxd is yet another hellsite I'm not-quite-proudly a part of. Gotta catch 'em all. I love being annoying with HTML formatting as a matter of fact, it's quite liberating to pretend to know that you can code in front of a billion strangers on the Internet.)

Number two: "so is this asshole gonna post fake hipster music on my timeline yet again?"

Not really, or at least not just that. First order of business is that reblogging is fun, but it overstays its welcome when you do it irresponsibly. It also quite literally goes contrary to this blog's original self-appointed mission and this cannot go unchecked. Pretension is law! Bad taste is every single one of this blog's ten commandments! I hate you all more than I hate myself!

Jokes aside, my point is exactly that I want to be a bit less annoying on the Internet for once. Consequently, I have decided to extend the range of posts on this blog beyond the relatively usual songs and reach into short- and medium-form writing (fiction, nonfiction, maybe even reviews: anything goes), pictures I take (the true OGs might remember I used to post my own drawings from time to time: that's not entirely out of the question for the future, it's just that it's been a while since I've last drawn anything worthwhile) and obviously shameless self-promotion (remember me mentioning my band a couple paragraphs above? Well, here is our record on Bandcamp, Spotify and YouTube; and no, my dear OGs, this is not the same band I used to talk about back in the day! This is a whole new project for you to check out), both in Italian and English, and maybe even some Spanish if I actually take my Spanish to a functional level.

As a corollary of this final point, I will not be deleting my old content, so that the new people on here can get to enjoy a whole cornucopia of cringe circa-2014 content.

Finally, since this is primarily a music blog, the obligatory soundtrack to the writing of this post:

Shoutout to literally every single one of you people for somehow not getting tired of waiting through these years of inactivity, or maybe you just forgot that I existed. If it's the second one, I hope this post was a fun throwback, and that this time you remember to unfollow me for good like you probably wanted to do back when I was active and annoying on here.

It's good to be back.

Love, schismusic

#schismusic #back to tumblr #writing #long post #music #i'm back #i missed writing random shit in the tags so much #punctuation is neat. look. it's cool!#bandcamp #spotify #youtube #comeback

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maxwell-grant · 2 years

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O MÉDICO E O [FIGURÃO]: Doctor Spam

A Spam-Email Supervillain? Click Below To Learn More About The Missing Link Of [Hyperlink Blocked]

-----------*click*----------------

I was doing some digging around characters from Monica’s Gang (gave it a basic rundown here when discussing it’s biggest villain, Capitão Feio / Captain Fray) and I found a character I completely forgot existed.

Doctor Spam is one of the main villains of Monica’s Gang, usually the go-to character for any storyline that uses computers or technology. He’s not used quite as often as the others thanks to his niche but still a character they bring back a reasonable amount. He is the evil alter-ego of a man Professor Spada, the gang’s kind-hearted computing teacher who was based on creator Mauricio de Souza’s son (Mauricio Spada, who passed away in 2016).

Debuting in 2005, Doctor Spam first emerges when Professor Spada is called to install a computer in Monica’s room, and she accidentally hits him with her plush bunny (named Samson). Because Samson is a weapon of mass destruction in her hands, the good professor Spada gets knocked away and zapped, transforming into his alter-ego Doctor Spam and trapping the gang inside the computer, only reverting to his “good self” when hit with an anti-spam program. Later appearences would state that he transforms when struck by lightning, or under stress, transforming into his alter-ego intent on taking over the world via mind-control, who usually spends a lot of time waging digital warfare against children and hitting them with lightning bolts.

(I USED TO BE NOTHING BUT THE IT GUY. NOW I’M THE [Anakin_younglins.gif] GUY)

Doctor Spam has a bunch of different powers revolving around computers and viruses and games, so varied that he’s basically omnipotent so long as you don’t have an anti-virus system or find a way to disable his power source. Among said powers includes the ability to transport people into the computer world he rules, infect computers attached to a network, freely create a “score” currency that transforms those who eat them, flood you with damaging forms of spam email and ads and messages, mind control people with specialized roots, etc.

At some point he also decided dressing in white labcoat was for weenies so he tried to switch out for a black outfit. He can also turn himself into a giant robot form called MegaSpam, with purple-black hair and a pointier nose.

And doing further research also showed me he got another redesign circa 2014 when he showed up for the Chico Bento manga and okay now you’re just fucking with me

cough,

this redesign was also part of a story where we get to learn a bit about how Doctor Spam has always been engineering Professor Spada’s transformations by altering his brain chemistry via electricity, and that Spada’s well-intentioned attempts to create a supercomputer capable of helping prevent grasshopper plagues eventually were utilized by Doctor Spam in order to engineer a plague of electronic grasshoppers that would systematically wipe out all vegetation and trapping people in coccoons to reprogram their minds and have them build his perfect world, a plan he explains with a handy dandy “Spamographic” and a drawing of the great cyber city he wants to create called S.P.A.M.I.A

I’m sure none of this [ring-ring-ring]s any bells whatsoever, but man, maybe Doctor Spam was never gonna really take off into big pop culture stardom, even disregarding the popularity of Monica’s Gang overseas. I mean, a spam email-based villain? With that wacko hair and goggles and nose and grin and big showoff personality? And he’s both friend and enemy at once? With him being a hard-working young man with big dreams and ambitions that get tragically dashed, and he winds up becoming this deranged cartoon of himself who schemes for power, and rampages when he has it, and needs to be stopped and saved from himself by the same group of kids he's trying to destroy?

Eh, too much of a long shot, I'd say.

#monica's gang #turma da monica #brazilian comics #brazilian supervillains #mauricio de souza #doctor spam #doutor spam #like I even need to put this in the #spamton #deltarune #undertale #tags #disclaimer that I'm obviously not claiming Doctor Spam was actually any kind of inspiration for Spamton I mean come on #I feel like that really goes without saying #but I'm basically just describing stuff about the character and he debuted a long while before Spamton #I was gonna make this post even before I found that manga form but #look at that #LOOK AT HIS FACE #i'm not even including Spamton images in the post because obviously you all know what he looks like but also #LOOK AT IT #he's like the missing link between Bob Sparker and Spamton #and I'm not sure if 2014 Doctor Spam predates Bob Sparker or not #oh yeah also go read #electricopolis #bob sparker

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chaunceyandchumleysdad · 2 years

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Dead & Company Wrigley Field Chicago, Illinois June 24, 2022

I’ve been to a dozen Grateful Dead concerts from 1975 to the early 90’s. (Most of those shows at Alpine Valley in Wisconsin in the 80’s.) Jerry Garcia died in 1995 and after that, I never saw any of the Grateful Dead spinoff bands. By 1995, I was well into full adult mode, owning a home, raising kids, and managing a career. My concert activity slowed down at that time in my life, and by the time it picked up a bit of steam again (2003, thanks to the Dandy Warhols), I had basically moved on from the Grateful Dead. My concert attendance reignited like a jet-propelled rocket once my kids were raised. Aware that Dead & Company had become a draw on par with the original band, with a couple of exceptions (Rolling Stones and Pearl Jam), I had mostly moved on from most stadium and arena shows preferring theaters, clubs, and outdoor festivals. However, when my wife expressed interest in seeing Dead and Company, I thought, “Why not? It’s been about 30 years, and Wrigley Field (Chicago) is an awesome concert venue. Let’s do it!”

DAMN, I’M SO GLAD I WENT!!! It was just so fucking awesome. I was back in the mood the moment they opened the show with Man Smart, Woman Smarter. The first set began at 6:45 in the beautiful sundrenched summer evening. They played 75 minutes before intermission. At 8:45, as the evening had transitioned to dusk, they returned to the stage and played a 130-minute set, finishing up just before 11:00. Having spent much of my lifetime in Wrigley Field (a few concerts, scores of Cubs games and even a Bears game), I used my knowledge of the old ballpark to select the perfect seats. Upper deck above home plate on the third base side provided an excellent view of the stage in center field. We also had the roof for cover, but it wasn’t needed with dry conditions, temperatures in the low 80’s, and a delightful breeze from Lake Michigan.

The band included original Dead members Bob Weir (guitar, vocals), Mickey Hart (drums) and Bill Kreutzmann. (Bill only played on two songs as he had suffered a minor injury a few days earlier.) The rest of the band included John Mayer (guitar and vocals), Oteil Burbridge (who I had seen once before in the early days of Tedeschi Trucks Band), Jeff Chimenti (keyboards and vocals) and Jay Lane (drums, sitting in for Bill). John Mayer is quite a competent replacement for Jerry Garcia. He is an excellent guitar player, although not as fluid as Jerry was. Bob Weir sounded and played great and seems to have not lost anything to age. Keyboards and the rhythm section were excellent. My overall impression was that they were a bit tighter and a bit more polished than the original band. Not to take anything away from the original band, because in those days, it wasn’t necessarily about being polished. It was more about the feel of the music. At this point in their career, the band has much better technology which aids their sound. Also, compared to my early concert days of the 70’s and 80’s, I think the audience has a greater expectation for the live bands to be at the top of its game, so there is that factor. On the other hand, Dead and Company have not been making any studio albums. Without that pressure, they can focus exclusively on honing their live sound. All-in-all, it was a wonderful night. My only regret is wondering why I didn’t see Dead and Company sooner.

Set 1:

· Man Smart, Woman Smarter (King Radio cover)

· Eyes of the World (Grateful Dead cover)

· Bertha (Grateful Dead cover)

· Next Time You See Me (Junior Parker cover)

· Dark Star (Grateful Dead cover - preceded by a Wharf Rat jam)

· Dear Mr. Fantasy (Traffic cover)

· Hey Jude (The Beatles cover - coda only)

· Althea (Grateful Dead cover)

Set 2:

· Throwing Stones (Grateful Dead cover)

· Brown-Eyed Women (Grateful Dead cover)

· Estimated Prophet (Grateful Dead cover - with The Other One tease)

· Sing Me Back Home (Merle Haggard cover)

· Truckin' (Grateful Dead cover - brief "Foxy Lady" reference

· Drums (Grateful Dead cover with Bill Kreutzmann and Oteil Burbridge)

· Space (Grateful Dead cover)

· All Blues (Miles Davis cover - D&C debut)

· Cumberland Blues (Grateful Dead cover)

· Stella Blue(Grateful Dead cover)

· Not Fade Away (The Crickets cover with Bill Kreutzmann)

#dead & company #grateful dead #wrigley field #chicago #live music #summer 2022 #bob weir #john mayer #mickey hart #bill kreutzmann #oteil burbridge #jeff chimenti #jay lane #setlistfm

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writingdirty · 1 year

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The Desecration of Fiona, Part 1

A novella, in parts. A piece that feels exactly how I should be writing at this moment in my life. Decadent, thoughtful, and complicated. The first few parts are free, then only on Patreon.

At forty-five, for the most part, I turned off my libido when I was at the office. Around the company it was, perhaps, noticeable that I did not react to things. Sexually unflappable. It had been remarked on. There had been various rumors in the company about my sexual preferences, proclivities, or lack thereof, etc.

Of course, I couldn’t care less. I had a rich social life outside of the office and a variety of relationships that had both no place and no bearing on my occupation. I kept my private life quite private, and in my opinion, others should do the same; thank you very much.

Still, I wasn’t immune to desire, merely adept at repressing it.

Margot, my closest confidante as well as one of my oldest colleagues in publishing, often teased me about the predictability of my desires. Thick thighs, buxom, brainy, bespectacled women, often somewhat younger than myself. In fact, she often pointed them out to me. Covertly, as never to break the protocol of our workplace.

“Henry, look, they’re stocking up on your type,” she might whisper with a smirk, pointing out a little cadre of junior copywriters. Fresh from college and freshly hired.

I did not let my gaze linger, though she seemed to love to tempt me to.

She was partly correct. I did have a “thing” for a certain “type,” though my desires were far more diverse than she implied. I had, for example, once fallen madly for a lanky woman two years my senior, who, instead of cheeky sass had a cool, cruel humor and a penchant for laconic observation. That woman being Margot. Though she would wave this off if I brought it up.

“Yes, a few decades ago, we had a summer of fucking, and then you got bored,” she said with a yawn.

“You got married,” I protested. “It was hardly a marriage,” she insisted.

Of all the office women I attempted not to ogle, and Margot relished pointing out, Fiona was the queen. My queen. A radiant cherub I tried desperately not to look at for too long or, god forbid come close to, as she was the sun to my Icarus.

God, her name was Fiona! How devastatingly perfect was that? She was a tiny thing, barely five feet, looking delectable in high-waisted slacks and tight turtlenecks. Her silver-framed glasses so huge and round they took up most of her freckle-peppered face.

Fiona with her reddish hair half up in a bun. A bun held together with a pencil, of all things! Thick thighed and round-bottomed. She was Velma, she was an R. Crumb drawing, she was heavenly.

She was not buxom, to throw a bit of cold water on Margot’s reductionist theories of my attraction. What Fiona lacked up top, she more than made up for in hips and thighs and a glorious ass.

And she was brilliant! Witty, quick, proficient in both banter and discourse, good at her job, a wonderful copywriter, and adept at all things organizational.

“Isn’t she a spitfire,” Margot commented after we sat in on a meeting with the marketing team, Fiona was part of.

“Three years out of college and not taking any guff from anyone. She orders the old men in the company around as if she were herding sheep. What does she care? She’ll be the boss in ten years. She’s brilliant,” Margot said with glee, watching me squirm.

She was all of that, indeed. She had her finger on the pulse of contemporary culture the way dinosaurs like us could never.

And what did she see if she looked my way? A grumpy dandy in his forties, with more salt than pepper in his hair. Tortoiseshell glasses and a gray glen plaid three-piece suit. A lilac tie on a crisp white shirt, a floppy pocket square of purple and blue flowers, and a head full of perversity and regret. A clean-shaven New Yorker of some pale European stock, who was leering at her over the top of his glasses from across the room and thought himself a brooding ancestry of Oscar Wilde.

Margot was aware of my impression of the girl and constantly brought her up. It was annoying to the point of being strange. Margot often found little digs and pet peeves to amusingly jab me with, but her constant reminder of Fiona’s existence was beyond that. I wondered if she too had a bit of a crush.

It was at the holiday party that my desire became an obsession. Mostly because I am a vain old man who loves nothing more than adoration.

As I walked into the office in late December, I found it festooned with lights and sparkles. Margot handed me a glass of prosecco (not champagne as was advertised on the invitation) and then motioned with her glass to the other side of the room.

“You’re just in time,” she said to me.

“Oh, Margot!” The saucer-eyed vixen said with a wave, nearly skipping over.

“Fiona, darling! Of course, you know Henry, he’s the monster we keep down in acquisitions everyone always talks about in hushed tones,” Margot said with a saucy grin.

Fiona laughed out loud, so loud I had to do a double-take. She looked glorious, with her face beet red from wine. She held out her hand to shake mine with a huge grin on her tipsy face. I shook her hand and then shook my head at her spirit.

“Oh look, Meredith just came in. I have to tackle her, excuse me, won’t you? Miss Byrne, Mr. Conroy,” Margot said, giving me a look that said, “let’s see your austerity deal with this.”

As Margot left, Fiona’s smile suddenly faded. Her hand went limp in mine.

“I’m so stupid, I didn’t put it together. Conroy? Henry Conroy?” she said, in almost a whisper.

“Yes,” I sighed, wondering if she had heard some of the more pointed bits of gossip about me. I was known to be a bit of an asshole, though my work was well respected.

“I don’t know why I didn’t put the name together before. We’ve been in the same meetings, but you’re ‘the’ Henry Conroy? You wrote-” she started, then looked around for a moment. “You wrote ‘The Book of Gilded Secrets.’”

I felt my face flushed. I dropped her hand, then suddenly regretted showing such a reaction. Her cheeks seemed to redden as well. “Yes, well, ah, that was many years ago, decades actually,” I said, trying and failing to laugh it off.

The book she mentioned was mine, but I’d written it so long ago it seemed like another life. I was her age when it was published, a fact that flooded my veins with guilt at my lust for her.

She was looking up at me so intently, I felt unable to revert back to my usually unflappable self.

“I read it in high school. My friend found it at a used bookstore. We passed it around. Everyone got to keep it for a week, but when my turn came, I wouldn’t give it back,” she said, still whispering.

I swallowed a lump in my throat. I tried to exorcize the images that flooded my brain.

“Yes, well, that’s very complimentary, if a bit inappropriate. I mean, that’s a text I meant for adult eyes. Even more so than the usual fare,” I said, becoming more and more uncomfortable.

“Well, I was a very curious girl. I still am,” she replied, biting her bottom lip and playing with the thin gold necklace she wore. The fire in me blossomed, and I almost felt swept up, like a puppet to my own lust.

“I see,” I said, forcing myself to grow as cold on the outside as I was hot within.

“No one has brought that book up to me in a very long time. It didn’t sell very well, and my other works were a bit more mainstream.”

“I know. I read them all, but I always came back to those Gilded Secrets. I always wanted more. Even now, it brings me back to those evenings reading it under the covers with a flashlight,” she sighed.

I felt myself suddenly forced to either flee or pounce on her. “Pardon me, I need some fresh air,” I said, before turning and making a run for it as quickly as was still respectable.

The roof of the building was only in use by the publishing company, though since it was December, no one else was up there. As I opened the old door, I shivered, but the cold air felt wonderfully bracing.

I looked out on Manhattan, a million lights, a million secrets. I let the cold penetrate my suit, my skin, cool the fire inside. After a few minutes, I heard the door open behind me.

For some reason, I expected Margot, but there was Fiona in her cranberry-colored high waisted slacks and her turtleneck the color of tea-stained paper. She shivered but walked towards the ledge, where I stood.

“You know I used to write in my diary hoping someone would steal it, like in your book,” she said with a laugh, her cheeks even redder from the chill. The wind blew her hair and made her shirt cling to her smallish breasts. I could see the peaks of her nipples hard under the material.

“I’m sure that sort of situation would be far less interesting in real life. In stories, we can have fun with something that would actually be quite uncomfortable in reality,” I said, over the wind.

Her eyes widened a little. “Oh, I’ve followed you out here and been actually completely inappropriate about your book,” she said, her eyes losing their bold confidence and falling to her feet. “I’m very sorry,” she added and turned, sprinting for the door.

I stood in the freezing air for a few more minutes, hoping to chill my boiling blood, but my ears burned, and my mind raced as I watched her go.

Ten minutes later, I finally went back inside, hoping to go back with a regained composure. She was waiting in the little hall in front of the door from the roof. She stood with her back against the wall, biting her lip.

“Is it true, though? Is there a hidden library, full of diaries and secrets?” she asked, a little breathlessly.

I considered her. Why was I fighting my desire? She was perfect. She was bright-eyed and full of the kind of curiosity I seemed to long for. Still, it was our workplace. I was twice her age. I gave her a tight-lipped smile. She was brilliant. She couldn’t think my silly fantasy book was real.

“That is a conversation for two people who don’t work together,” I said steadily, feeling my coolness return, my neutral face, my hopefully unreadable demeanor. She frowned and nodded.

I left the party without saying goodbye to anyone. The feeling that welled up in my heart was failure more than anything else.

At home, there was regret and guilt, and even, for a moment, I thought to pick up the pen, to write as I did in my youth. Instead, there was a pill and the sweet comfort of sleep.

Part 2 is free on Patreon.

#my-writing

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thefatalmarksman · 2 years

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Two: As You Must Be Guided

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“You must be wondering what this dandy little trinket is, and how it applies to your upcoming trial, hmm?”

Trial. Luxu wasn’t particularly pleased with the use of the word, but he supposed if it was something his Master was tasking him with, it likely wouldn’t be an easygoing stroll. Everything he did was measured and calculated, his various training sessions included.

However, he would play along, nodding in affirmation to the question, to which the Master raised up the glimmering, multi-hued object, so drawing out his explanation: “This brilliant item is what they will call a Star Shard. From some point in the future, I’ve managed to draw out its form, thus allowing its use for a temporary amount of time---at least, long enough to serve your needs.”

Here, he handed Luxu the crystalline ornament---closer now, he could see that though it was indeed shaped similarly to a star, one of its points appeared broken, from which a glittering green lightning bolt protruded. From its surface emanated a brimming power, the aura of which could be felt even through Luxu’s glove.

“Now then, to your mission.”

Switching his attention from the Star Shard and back to his Master, he could clearly sense the turn in his disposition---from lighthearted and joking to a more serious air, hands held behind his back, head tilted down, as though in solemn thought---the silence of which stifled Luxu, but he remained quiet in expectation.

“There are worlds out there that do not exist---or, under the right circumstances, they could exist, or maybe would have existed, if history were to be written differently,” he’d begun to pace, back and forth, then towards his desk several feet away, whereupon rested the Book of Prophecies, its contents still an utter mystery to Luxu---and, likely, to be kept as such. “Perhaps… they have simply been forgotten, and time cannot remember them---” he cast his vision over his shoulder, back towards Luxu. “Whatever the case, no one else has ever visited these worlds---not even myself. Thus, they have remained untouched by outside influences, and will serve as the perfect training grounds for you.”

Worlds that don’t exist---or could, or would exist? And he alone would be visiting them? Such an explanation was, admittedly, a lot to take in, and certainly not one Luxu entirely expected.

But then again, should he ever expect anything when it came to the Master?

“So… how am I supposed to get to these worlds?” he questioned, feeling that it was a sensible enough inquiry---to which the Master pointed directly to the Star Shard in his hands.

“That there will be the key to your travels---but,” the hardened word lingers, the finger that had been pointed lifting in emphasis, “be forewarned, you won’t be able to control it on your own. The Star Shard will guide you as you must be guided. Therefore, wherever you find yourself, you must understand that is where you are supposed to be.”

Admittedly, Luxu didn’t quite enjoy the thought of this---that he couldn’t leave a place of his own accord once he was there. What if it turned out to be too dangerous for him to handle? Or what if he lost the Star Shard somehow, and then he would be stuck there for good?

But he imagined that, if his Master was trusting him with such an important task, then he knew he would be able to pull through it. He did have access to that sort of knowledge, after all.

“Okay, I see…” and Luxu felt the response was a bit lacking, so he went on, desiring further clarification: “So what exactly does this ‘training’ entail? Am I supposed to be fighting something in particular, or procuring some objects to bring back?”

All at once, his Master offered an exaggerated shrug, so saying, “Who knows? I certainly don’t. Whatever happens there is beyond my sight, so I guess you’ll just have to find out when you get there.”

Luxu didn’t bother to hide his groan, at which his Master continued, “But hey, you get back in one piece in the end, so that’s gotta count for something, right?”

He supposed… but that didn’t make him feel any better about his uncertainty.

“Just trust your instincts, Luxu---” and he approached Luxu, resting his hands upon his Apprentice’s shoulders. There was something in his gaze that filled Luxu’s chest with reassurance, resonating well with the words his Master spoke. “Trust in your blade, and---more importantly---in your heart. Your strength will shine through in the end.”

The way the Star Shard suddenly shone in Luxu’s hands was abrupt and near-blinding, its aura cascading a wash of rainbow light along the surfaces of his Master’s quarters. He can feel its vibration within his grasp, and all at once, his vision was swathed in white.

Luxu thought he could hear a warm voice---his Master’s---growing in distance with each word:

“May your heart be your guiding key.”

#drabble

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n0stalgicv0id · 2 months

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Does that mean you looked for my message first thing in the morning ?? How sweet 🍓

I wasnt a big fan of literature myself or… I was, I don’t really have much recollection of my childhood if I’m being honest. Lolita is such a misunderstood book and the publishers don’t make it any better with they hyper sexualized covers of little girls, it truly disgusts me- It’s funny you mentioned this book because I talked about it the other day,, I know how vicious children can be, especially if they’ve been raised to think that difference is a synonym of enemy. I really hope she’s doing better today, she sounds like an extraordinary person ! To get inspired is to construct one’s self so, I’m glad you crossed paths with someone like her !

That book you’re reading sounds lovely ! I’ll try to look into it, I’m always looking for new things to read ! It makes me so happy to find a fellow Emily Brönte lover- Jane Eyre was great, certainly, but Emily’s art is much more tortuous and daring than her sister’s work which I always greatly appreciated 🍓 And you like Edgar Allan Poe and Oscar Wilde on top of that ? I have read the Picture of Dorian Gray in both English and French more than five times already, maybe I’m a bit obsessed 😭 I also was lucky enough to find one of the first editions in a small library once ! It was also really cheap, I couldn’t believe I was able to get my hands on such a treasured item for so cheap !!

I feel like my letters just get longer and longer haha !! That’s very interesting to know, you seem to have quite the entourage ! What do you study exactly ? I hope you enjoy the music I recommended to you 🍓 I’m currently sitting at a cafe before class, rethinking my entire life because I slipped on the hallway tiles, broke my umbrella and almost stabbed my eye with it then spent 15 minutes looking for my keys under the rain afterwards- Talk about being a clown really-

I Hope you slept well ! 🍓

When I get up I always check if someone sent me something but I usually reply after some hours, I enjoy to take care of myself and then come back ahah. I’m foolish I know.

I completely agree about recent book covers of Lolita, the first time I got that book I was so embarrassed of seeing such sexual acts. I immediately understood why all copies are still closed in plastic. The thing that makes me sad is the fact that this book is extremely infamous but it’s a piece of work in so many senses. I loved the writing style and the moments of how Lolita/Dolores was described by the protagonist. It's scandalous, grotesque, and it's a story that even today some people can relate to some extent. Isn't it the exact reason of why this book is still iconic and actual? Nabukov's intent was well portrayed. I hated it from the core. Oscar Wilde was such an iconic dandy and loved all his writings, really. The profundis have a special place in my heart. I never read an author so similar to me in so many ways and I feel less lonely in this ocean of my how struggles, blackouts. I’m jealous of the fact that you managed to get a 1st edition of the picture of Dorian Gray. Just how you even managed to do that? THAT’S INSANE. You basically have a saint grail in your collection. If you have some pictures I’d appreciate to see them very much.

Don’t worry if you write too much, I prefer to get long asks more than anything else. I’m in fact into penpalling. I’m a bit old fashioned, yes, it’s such an amazing hobby to freeze the brain. I’m studying game concept art. At first I liked it but I’m quite antisocial and talking to people isn’t exactly my forte, but I’m trying to improve and at least I can still work despite not being a talker. But at least I can submit my art assignment and receive opinions on it without too much trouble. I can’t wait to finish. Don’t get me wrong, I enjoy what I’m doing but I don’t particularly enjoy to work in the art industry. I prefer to draw for myself when I have time - never. At the moment I just came back at home, I was out and managed to read a bit and now I’m trying to sort out what to take with me for the trip. Sending good luck to you, you definitely need some! Sorry but I laughed reading that you broke your umbrella. I hope you managed to find a new one. One day someone stole mine when I was in a comic shop. I have bad luck.

#letterbox .𖥔 ݁ ˖#🍓anon

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rolereversalclassifieds · 2 years

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Username: Kurind Gender: Male Age: 18 Type of Relationship: I'm not too sure yet Are You Okay With A Long Distance Relationship: Yeah, I wouldn't mind that A Bit About Yourself: I'm 5'9", I have blue eyes and kinda long brown hair. I enjoy drawing, videogames, anime, manga, and music. I spend a lot of time goofing around and making jokes, since I've never been a very serious person. I also have a ton of energy and can be quite hyper sometimes, though I'm also pretty laid back and have a tough time actually getting angry about anything. Favourite Videogames: Ocarina of Time, Kirby Super Star, Megaman X, Metal Gear Solid 3. Favourite Artists: The Police, Yes, Billy Joel, Jeff Beck, Rush. Favourite Anime: Cowboy Bebop, Henneko, Trigun, Space Dandy. Favourite Manga: Berserk, Princess Princess, Witchcraft Works. Things You'd Like In A Partner: Someone's who's kind and has a good sense of humour. I love to joke around a lot, so somebody else who likes to do that too would be really nice. Tumblr: bastardstrawberry

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littlesniggy · 3 years

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Hey! so happy that I can ask for the admirals again, I think you are great to write headcanons for them ^^ Anyway, now that the admirals has this young daughter (4-5 years?), any chance to ask for a headcanon where they are kinder forced to babysit her for a week when mom is gone. How will it go? Work from home or tak her to work, playtime and shenanigan. Thank you

Hey Anon! Thanks you for the request. I tried to bring up different aspects and scenarios for each admiral and I hope you like it. Not saying Sakazuki is a bad father, I'd just say he'd be a little....awkward. Kuzan's probably the best father out of the three.

Warnings: none

Sakazuki, Borsalino, Kuzan with daughter

Word count: 1.9k

Sakazuki

Sakazuki does not take time off from work. Never. Not when he’s sick (not that he even gets sick), not when his baby mama is out of town. When he’s still an Admiral / Vice Admiral, it is very uncommon for him to be at home at all since he’s always gone chasing pirates. If his wife has to leave for some reason she better hope he’s home or she can find a baby sitter. He will not skip on a mission he’s been assigned to. If he’s already an admiral, this is a little bit easier but not a lot.

He won’t be too pleased to hear that his wife has to leave for a short period of time but he won’t tell her not to. I wish I could say he thinks that it’s not his place to tell her what to do but quite frankly she will leave either way for wherever she has to be so in this situation he will avoid an argument and just deal with it (he will still tell her that this wasn’t part of the agreement! Whatever agreement he may be talking about…).

He will either take his daughter with him to work but what I think is more likely he will simply hire a babysitter. As much as he loves his daughter, he’s not too fond of a toddler running around marine base unsupervised and causing disturbances. And he will find a babysitter. Nobody says no to him (beside his wife).

But, on the rare occasion he really can’t find anyone, he will pack some toys, some food and take her with him to his office. Initially, I could see him not knowing what to pack but he’s Sakazuki, he knows how to take care of a child (at least he knows what they need / is an appropriate toy). He will sit her on the sofa in his office and hope she won’t distract him too much.

The first time she demands attention, he will tell her to keep playing and be quiet since daddy is working (he uses the word daddy). He will watch her out of the corner of his eye and secretly find it adorable when she plays with whatever she’s playing with, being in her own imaginary world where everything’s fine and dandy.

The second time she tried to get his attention, he will begrudgingly engage in it for a moment, maybe lift her up on his lap and try to work like this but she will not let him. Even though she is tiny compared to him she will somehow manage to get everything in her tiny hands and mess up his desk by drawing on documents, spilling his tea across the surface (he was 100% sure he put it out of reach!) or just talk to him non-stop.

He considers the option of calling a marine to babysit her for a moment but this idea is out the window faster than it came; he would never let a lowly cadet who is probably still green behind ears watch his daughter! Besides, they wouldn’t be able to handle her at all. She’s his daughter, after all!

Eventually, he will stop working more or less and give his daughter all the attention she craves (and deserves!). He won’t sit on the floor to play with her but he will sit on the sofa, lift her up to play up there. He will let her climb all over him, catch her when she jumps off his big body and maybe even consider playing with dolls for her if she wants him to. If anyone dares to enter his office, however, they better know how to run fast and far away cause he will hunt them down for seeing him like this.

Borsalino

Same as Sakazuki, his wife needs to find a time when he is actually home in order to leave their daughter with him but once she does, he has no problem with it at all. Rather on the contrary, he looks forward to spending more time with his daughter since he’s always gone. He might even pack his wife’s luggage for her and wave her goodbye, wishing her a nice trip. Well, maybe it’s not exactly like that but as I said, he doesn’t mind watching his daughter.

Since he still has his duties as an admiral, he can’t just take one week off (well, he could and he would but there are simply some things he needs to tend to). He will probably spent the first day at home with his daughter but will keep an eye on any calls of the den-den-mushi just in case.

And his daughter will be spoiled during this week, her mother will chew him a new one when she’s back. I’m talking about a lot of candies, staying up late, sleeping in her parent’s bed, all the fun stuff. Though Borsalino will soon realize that this might not be the best way to raise her so he will, maybe after three days, be a little bit stricter and enforce his wife’s parenting style, so maybe she won’t be as mad as initially anticipated.

When he has to go to the office, he will take her with him and lowkey parade her around. He will show her everything, purposefully taking more time than necessary to get to his office, showing her around and letting her meet the vice admiral’s that are around. He won’t go around telling how smart or how awesome she is but if you look close enough you’ll see the pride in his eyes whenever she does anything. He adores her.

In his office, he will call a cadet to watch her for a while when he has to attend to meetings, etc. Unlike Sakazuki, he has no problem having another marine watch her. He needs to know them, however! He’s a chill dad but not a careless one!

He might even take her with him on a marine ship, explain everything to her, show her where he locks up all the bad, bad pirates he captures and lets her play with the sea prism stone chains attached to the walls, even letting her handcuff him (though he regrets it as soon as she does and then running away, leaving him unable to leave until someone finds him). He’ll never let her do it again.

From time to time, his wife will call to ask if everything’s fine. In his usual drawled voice he will tell her that, indeed, everything is fine and that they’re having a lot of fun together. He will then ask his daughter if she wants to talk to her mother and he will just smile and her and watch while she climbs on his lap in order to tell her mom everything daddy let her do.

I can see him ‘losing’ her at one point when they’re at the headquarter, maybe when he gets distracted by one of the other marines demanding his attention for something and she just wanders off. It’s not like he has no idea where she is at all, he is pretty sure he knows the general direction she went to. And luckily, he is quite fast so eventually he will find her (he never thought she could get this far when he finally finds her).

Kuzan

I can only repeat myself, but Kuzan also is barely there due to his duties. But whenever he is, he makes sure to spend as much time with his daughter as possible. So, he has no complaints when his wife tells him she needs to leave for a week or so. He doesn’t need her to write anything down like bedtime, food she can / can’t / shouldn’t eat, who she can or can’t play with, what she likes, dislikes….he knows everything.

She is like her father and likes to take a nap more often than not. So, pretty much the first thing they do is lay down on the sofa, she on his chest, and take a good ol’ nap. They will wake up when she gets hungry and wakes him up to tell him to make her something. And she is not the ‘annoying’ type of child that jumps up and down or yell but she will silently and patiently wake him up. And honestly, he is so glad about this fact that he would give her anything just for being such an easy child. But he won’t.

He might be the only one who will at least try and take some days off or at least work from home even if that might be a little difficult. He actually prefers not to work at all during this time but like his fellow admirals is Kuzan a dutiful admiral. So, when Sengoku tells him he needs to come he will but begrudgingly. He will take his daughter with him (maybe to have her convince Sengoku that he should give her daddy the few days off) and show her around.

She is a very curious child, taking in everything she gets told and remembering things quite well for her age. And, in his opinion she is the cutest kid there is. When in his office, he will watch her play and not get to his work most of the time. When she asks him to read something to her, he will lift her on his lap and take the book she gives him and read to her until she eventually falls asleep.

Whenever someone knocks on his door, he ignores it in favor of not waking his daughter up. At some point, Sengoku will come in since he’s confused that the other marines tell him Kuzan wasn’t in his office only to find both him and his daughter asleep in his chair. Sengoku thinks it’s cute secretly but he is the fleet admiral after all so he can’t tolerate this behavior.

Since Kuzan knows his daughter very well, he also knows her friends and their parents quite well. So, when he knows he can’t skip work today he will call one of his daughter’s friend’s parents and ask if she could spend the day with them and he would pick her up in the evening. He is not only a respected marine, he is also a respected father so chances are he will find someone he can ‘park’ his daughter at. She will have fun and he can work without feeling guilty for ignoring her.

I can also see him cooking dinner with his daughter. I picture him, despite being quite lazy and letting his wife cook most of the time, being actually a good cook. At least the things he cooks are good so he wants to teach his daughter one or two easy things. Usually he doesn’t see the necessity to use his power for cooking but if his daughter were to ask him to freeze something (maybe some fruits?) he will oblige and tell her to wait until after dinner to eat it. When his wife gets back, she will be pleased to find both of them sleeping on the sofa, just the way she left them.

#one piece #op #op admirals #admirals #sakazuki #borsalino #kuzan #aokiji #akainu #kizaru #headcanons #op headcanons #Akainu headcaons #Kuzan headcanons #kizaru headcanons #aokiji headcanons #Sakazuki headcanons #reqeust #daughter headcanon

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